A Gentleman Caller
by tongue in cheek scribe
Summary: Glorfindel pays someone an unexpected visit. PG 13. Humor, NON-CANON! Please do not expect to find anything even resembling canon here.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: A Gentleman Caller**

**Author: TICS**

**Rating: PG13**

**Summery: Glorfindel pays someone an unexpected visit.**

**Genre: Humor. AU…please do not expect anything even remotely resembling canon here. Feedback greatly appreciated…desired…wanted…needed…:D**

**Disclaimer: I don't own it. I just play with it once in a while, and always make sure to put it back neatly, just where I found it.**

Chapter One 

"Pardon me."

She jumped nearly a foot off the bed, startled out of her sleep by the deep masculine voice that came from her closet. Sitting up in bed, she wiped a hand across her face, wondering what she could have possibly eaten the night before to cause her to dream that a man was lurking in her closet.

"Hello?" came the hidden voice again, followed by a light rapping on the closet door from within.

She screamed, long, loudly, and shrilly. As she sucked in more air for another shot at reaching high "C", the voice pleaded with her.

"Please…do not do that again, unless you wish to burst my eardrums. Kindly let me out of here."

"Who are you?" she managed to ask, kneeling on her bed, clutching the bedclothes to her chest, staring at the closet door. Wildly, she wondered if she could make it to the kitchen where all the nice, big sharp knives were kept, as well as the telephone, with the nice, big numbers "911" on speed dial.

"Glorfindel. Now, kindly let me out of here!" The voice sounded as though it was becoming a tad bit irritated.

"Glorfindel? Did your mother have a fixation with the Lord of the Rings?" she asked, slowly moving to the side of the bed, her eyes still glued to the closet door.

"My mother, if it is any of your business - and it is not - was a lovely, faithful woman, and was certainly not fixated on anyone other than my father, thank you very much."

"Um…okay…sorry…so, why are you in my closet?"

"Let me out and I'll tell you."

"Not a chance. Tell me and I'll let you out," she lied, edging closer to the bedroom door.

"Let me out or I will be forced to break down the door, which is actually sounding like more and more of an option by the moment."

"No!" she screamed, lunging for the bedroom door.

A loud thud, accompanied by the sound of splintering wood heralded the arrival in her bedroom of her uninvited guest. She tried to open the bedroom door, but a large hand pushed it closed again from somewhere over her head.

"Really, madam, is this necessary? Good Heavens, woman…put some clothes on!" the voice from the closet said, so close that she could feel his breath on the back of her neck.

Slowly turning around, she looked directly into a broad chest dressed in a fine, satiny, ruby red robe with intricately embroidered silver and gold threaded trim. Her eyes traveled north, beholding what could possibly be the most handsome face she had ever seen, with two beautifully deep turquoise eyes staring back at her, a delicately sculpted nose and full sensual lips, all framed by very long, silky-looking, shiny hair the color of ripe wheat.

But it was really the ears that gave him away.

Glorfindel.

"No, it can't be…they must be fake," she muttered under her breath, reminding herself of what wonders could be made with latex these days, as she ducked under his arm to put as much space between herself and her unwanted visitor as possible.

"Clothing. I would suggest you get some," he said in his deep, velvety voice. She noticed that he kept his eyes averted from her as he spoke.

"I am clothed…I'm wearing a nightgown."

"_That_ is not clothing…_that_ is a napkin."

"I didn't think Elves were prudes."

"I am no prude, young lady…but certainly you don't make a habit of entertaining male callers dressed in such garb…do you?" he asked, still not looking at her, but raising an eyebrow.

"I am not entertaining you…you arrived uninvited into my closet, remember?"

"On the contrary, I am finding you quite entertaining…" he replied, at last turning those turquoise eyes on her again.

She backpedaled further into the bedroom, casting her eyes about wildly, looking for anything she could use as a weapon. Her hands found a small vase from the table near the window, and she grabbed it, brandishing it like a club.

"Really, madam…such theatrics. Do you mean to pummel me with pottery?" He asked, chuckling. He stood in front of the door, crossing his arms over his chest, giving her a most bemused look.

"Who are you?" she demanded, her hands now shaking so badly that she nearly dropped the vase.

"I believe we've already been over this…my name is Glorfindel. Glor--fin--del, which means, literally, 'golden haired Elf.' Very imaginative, if I do say so myself," he said sarcastically. "My other titles include 'Lord of the House of the Golden Flower,' or simply, 'Lord of the Golden Flower,' 'The Balrog-Slayer,' and…oh, yes…'Lord of the Hot Tush.' I believe you, yourself, bestowed that last one on me."

She stared at him in shocked silence, knowing full well that she had, indeed, used that title in the last little fan fiction she'd written. He'd read it? She blushed, thinking of what else she'd written in that story.

"Yes…I believe that was one of my favorites, although the one in which you have Legolas and Haldir thrashing about in a hammock does run a close second," he continued, inching a bit closer to her.

"You cannot be Glorfindel…not the same Glorfindel as the one in my stories…what are you, some kind of fanfiction stalker? How did you find me?" she asked, pressing her back up against the wall.

He took yet another step closer. "I _am_ the same Glorfindel as the one in your stories," he replied patiently. "Trust me, there cannot be two of me…that would be one too many for the world to handle. I am here because we took a vote to decide on who to send."

"You won?"

"Hardly. Do I look the type that would _want_ to end up in a closet that smells strongly of mothballs and feet? I think Elladan and Elrohir cheated."

"Thanks a heap! You really know how to make a girl feel good about herself, don't you?"

"My apologies. Will you please put the vase down and sit so that we may discuss this like rational beings?" he asked, now standing just a foot or so in front of her. He gently took the vase away from her, setting it back down on the table, before pulling her over to the bed, kicking and screaming, and forcing her to sit. He sat down next to her, leaving a respectable distance between them.

She bolted from the bed…he grabbed her around the waist and pulled her back down.

No sooner did his hands leave her waist that she bolted upright again, only to be forced down once more.

The third time she tried to stand, Glorfindel lost his patience. He grabbed her around the middle, threw her on the bed face down, and sat on her.

Spotting the discarded sheets crumbled at the foot of the bed, he dragged them over, throwing them over her bare legs.

"Since this seems to be the only sure way to keep you from bobbing up and down from the bed like a cork, I see no other alternative but to use you as cushion."

"This doesn't seem to be very Lord-like behavior!" she squeaked from under his weight.

"I suppose you are the expert on what constitutes 'Lord-like' behavior? It seems to me from your stories that you actually have no _idea_ how Lords behave themselves. _You_ always seem to have us running about half-dressed, erm…dallying with ourselves or each other!"

"Dallying? Is that a real word?"

"What word would you prefer? Oh, wait…I remember…you seem to have a predilection for using the term, 'stroking."

She erupted into a fit of giggling, much to Glorfindel's consternation. "What do you find so amusing, might I ask? I am trying to have a serious conversation with you, and you giggle like an Elfling who's gotten into the wine cellar!"

"I'm sorry…_snort_…it's just that…you said…_snort_…_stroking_…_snort_!"

"Why do you find that funny? You use it all the time!"

"That's different…"

"Why?"

"Because…because…you're _Glorfindel_, that's why!"

"Aha! You admit to believing that I am who I say I am?"

"Fine…okay…you've convinced me. Let's just say - for argument's sake - that you are 'the' Glorfindel…why are you here?"

"If I let you up now, will you promise to stay put?" he asked.

She nodded, although she had no intention of keeping that promise if the opportunity to escape presented itself. He lifted himself from her rear section, allowing her to sit up. Resuming his position sitting a polite distance away from her, he again folded his arms across his chest, looking at her intently.

"So, again…why are you here?"

"You really must pay more attention. I've already told you…I lost the vote."

"Fine! You lost! I get it…" she snipped angrily. "Now tell me why you needed to vote to send anyone at all."

"How else would we decide who to send?"

"Damn it!" she exploded, jumping up from the bed, causing his eyebrows to shoot up. "You bloody well know what I mean…what is the purpose of your little unannounced, uninvited visit to my closet in the middle of the night?"

"You promised to stay put. Must I sit on you again? Do you always break your word so easily? In my world such a deed would be unforgivable - an Elf's word is his bond…why, I remember an Elf once who gave his word in a bargain that…"

"Stop that!"

"Stop what?"

"Stop changing the subject!"

"Is that what I am doing?" Glorfindel chuckled, his eyes twinkling mischievously.

"Oh, you devil, you! You're doing it on purpose!" She yelled, throwing the balled up sheets at him. "You're purposely evading my question!"

"My apologies again. It is just that you are too…oh, how would you say it in one of your stories…oh, yes…you are too easy."

She looked at him dumbfounded, as he grabbed her wrist and gently pulled her back into her seat on the bed.

Sighing, Glofindel threw the sheets back over her legs, then moved to rest his back against the headboard, facing her. Looking at her, he sighed again, then said, "I will answer your question, however, considering your reaction to being told my name, I harbor serious doubts that you will believe me."

"Try me."

"I beg your pardon?" he gasped, his eyebrows shooting up again, sitting straight up on the bed once more.

"It means that I'm willing to listen. Really, for a being that's supposed to cherish being clean, you have a very dirty mind."

Glofindel sniffed, evidently mollified somewhat by her answer, and leaned back against the headboard again. "Very well…but do not say I did not warn you."


	2. Chapter 2

Title: A Gentleman Caller Author: TICS Rating: PG13 Summery: Glorfindel pays someone an unexpected visit. Genre: Humor. AU…please do not expect anything even remotely resembling canon here. Feedback greatly appreciated…desired…wanted…needed…:D Disclaimer: I don't own it. I just play with it once in a while, and always make sure to put it back neatly, just where I found it. A Gentleman Caller Chapter Two 

"It began about a year or so ago. Manwë had finally broken down and allowed Valinor to be wired for cable…"

"You have cable?"

"Doesn't everyone?"

"Good point. Please continue…"

"As I was saying," Glorfindel resumed, giving her an irritated glance at having been interrupted, "Manwë had allowed cable to be brought into Valinor, so naturally, the first thing Elladan and Elrohir did was sign us up for DSL."

"DSL…you have computers in Valinor?"

"Of course…we're not living in the Stone Age, you know…and would you please refrain from interrupting? I am losing my train of thought."

"My apologies…"

"Where was I? Oh, yes…DSL. Now, the twins, being the twins, immediately became well versed in the mechanics of the Internet, and again, being who they are, immediately typed in their own names to see what would pop up."

"Oh, no…"

"Oh, yes…it was quite amazing, actually. Literally thousands of pages that talked about them popped up. Or about us, really. Thousands! _Tens_ of thousands! You can't imagine…oh, of course you can, being who you are," he said, smirking at her. "Once again, being the twins, it also didn't take them long to find the, er…adult webbed sites. Of which, it seems, _you_ are a charter member."

"Web sites. Not webbed. Web."

Glorfindel shot her another irritated look. "I stand corrected. May I continue?"

"Please…"

"Thank you. It was on several of these sites that we found some of your stories. It was also through these sites that we found out about something called "a Yeehaw group."

"Do you mean a "Yahoo" group?"

"Oh, yes…Yahoo…pardon me."

"Oh, good grief. You've been to the groups?"

"Been there? My dear, we are all members."

"NO!"

"YES! Why are we shouting? Have you suddenly lost your hearing?" He shook his head at her, using one finger to close her mouth, which had, at that point, dropped wide open.

Continuing, he said, "When we realized that no one in these groups actually knows who anyone else is, we found it a great deal of fun to join in…we belong to Little Balrog…Elf Pervs…ElvenLords…Elves R Us, Imladris Slash, Halla Quenta, and," he continued blushing a bit, "Glorfindel of Imladris, to name a few."

"What are your screen names?" she asked, unable to curb her curiosity.

"Oh, no…that would take the fun out of it, wouldn't it?" he replied, shaking one long, elegant finger at her. "We've all spent hours and hours reading and posting on those groups. Actually, I have question, if you would be so kind…"

"Sure…what is it?"

"There is one particular element that we can't quite figure out…who are these muses everyone seems to have, and why do they usually have our names?"

"Well…actually…we kind of…it's hard to explain…they're fashioned after you, and we use them to inspire us as writers."

"I see…Legolas is not going to be pleased. He's been quite miffed at your muse who seems to have his name, but continuously prances about in nothing but some type of pink tutu."

"Yeah…that's my Leggy, alright."

"In either case, this brings me to the reason for my visit. First, I must apologize for landing in your closet. It was not intentional…Mithrandir was aiming for the front door, but evidently, he's become a bit rusty."

"Oh…you're forgiven."

"Thank you most kindly. Secondly, the reason I've come is to ask you to come for a visit."

"A visit…to Valinor…me…a human…in Valinor…with you…a visit…in Valinor…"

"I don't believe that constitutes a complete sentence, but I get the idea. Yes, a visit with me to Valinor."

"Why?"

"Curiosity. We've read so many stories, some based on fact, others not…putting us in all types of situations with Eru alone knows how many partners…we became very curious about the type of people who write these stories. Where on earth do you people get these ideas from?"

"From our imaginations."

"Lovely. Did your mothers drop all of you on your collective heads as infants?"

"That was not necessary."

"Neither is dressing one of us up in nothing but a pink tutu."

"Actually, I consider that _quite_ necessary."

"Hence the "dropping you on the head as infant" theory."

"Are all Elves this exasperating?"

"Come to Valinor and find out."

"Why me?"

"We picked your name out of a hat."

"Oh," she said, rather disappointed. She had hoped for something just a teensy bit more meaningful than a scrap of paper drawn out of someone's sombrero. "What do you get out of this?"

"Satisfaction of our curiosity - from the horse's mouth, so to speak - no insult intended, of course," Glorfindel said with a half smile.

"Of course," she answered, narrowing her eyes at him, not believing him for an instant.

"You, of course, get to see us as we really are…perhaps use that information for a story."

She considered for a moment - as if she actually needed to think about it.

"See you as you all really are? Going about your everyday business?" she asked, trying to look undecided, chewing on a fingernail.

"Yes."

"Are you _sure_ there aren't any tutus?"

"No tutus."

"Damn."


	3. Chapter 3

Title: A Gentleman Caller Author: TICS Rating: PG13 Summery: Glorfindel pays someone an unexpected visit. Genre: Humor. AU…please do not expect anything even remotely resembling canon here. Feedback greatly appreciated…desired…wanted…needed…:D Disclaimer: I don't own it. I just play with it once in a while, and always make sure to put it back neatly, just where I found it. Chapter Three 

Whoever said "getting there is half the fun," had evidently never been to Valinor.

That was her first rational thought as she picked herself up off the cold marble floor on which she'd landed with a quite ungracious, unladylike thump just a few moments before.

The trip, all ninety seconds of it, had been cold, dark, dizzying and vaguely nauseating…none of which sensations she looked forward to repeating on the trip back. The hard landing had just been the icing on the cake.

Glorfindel, ever the gentleman, had already moved away to speak with a dark haired Elf standing off to one side of the room. As she picked herself up off the floor, brushing herself off, she shot what she hoped were venomous looks in the Balrog Slayer's direction. The dark haired Elf caught the looks she was trying to kill Glorfindel with, and smiled broadly.

"Glorfindel…really, where are your manners? First, you fail to help the Lady rise from her most undignified position on the floor, and then you fail to introduce us," he said, brushing past the golden haired warrior, walking over and holding out his hands to her. "My dear, welcome to Valinor. I am Elrond, erstwhile Lord of Imladris."

She accepted his hands, unable to keep from staring at the handsome Peredhil Lord. "Thank you, Lord Elrond…it's a pleasure to be here, and I'm grateful for the opportunity."

"I trust Glorfindel has explained things in a suitable manner?"

"Yes, I think so…he invited me to visit because he said you were all curious about the type of people who write stories about you," she replied rather absently, still a bit overcome by the sleek dark mane and the aristocratic features and bearing of the Peredhil Lord.

"Excellent. So, where shall we begin? A tour perhaps? Would you care to see the library?"

"Elrond, really…she's just arrived. You have the audacity to impugn my manners while your own are deplorable! Did you think that perhaps she'd like a beverage? Something to eat? Be shown to her quarters? She is carrying a suitcase, you know. Perhaps she'd like to unpack first," Glorfindel admonished, taking her elbow.

Elrond caught hold of the other elbow, frowning at the Lord of the Golden Flower. "At least I didn't leave her sitting on the floor like some misplaced footstool!"

"Um…gentlemen, er…gentleElves, er…gentleWhatever, I could use something to drink - preferably something strong…as in alcoholic…as in cross-my-eyes-make-my-hair-stand-on-end alcoholic."

The two Elves looked at her with renewed interest. "Usually a Lady will request water…or tea…or juice…" Elrond offered, raising those trademark brows of his.

"Uh huh. Well this Lady would prefer a Margarita. In absence of that she'll take ale or wine, or whatever else passes for booze around here."

"Very well, milady…I will escort you to your rooms, while Glorfindel fetches a bottle of our finest wine from the cellars," Elrond acquiesced, taking her suitcase from her and leading her toward the door

"I _am_ a Lord, too, you know!" Glorfindel muttered, frowning at the darker Lord as he led the human away. "Exactly at what point in time was I demoted to wine steward?"

The room Elrond led her to was lovely, simply but elegantly furnished and decorated with vivid, painstakingly detailed, embroidered tapestries. Elrond deposited the suitcase on the floor near the large carved sleigh bed, before pulling a chair out from a nearby table, offering her a seat.

Sitting, she looked out of the window at the view of the crashing waves far below, and the expanse of white, pristine beach that ran in both directions as far as her eye could travel.

"Ooh…beachfront property…very nice," she muttered. "Your home is absolutely beautiful, Lord Elrond."

"Thank you, but it is not mine…not alone. We all live here. My wife will appreciate your compliments, though, since she and Lady Galadriel did most of the decorating."

"I'm looking forward to meeting them…is that a television?" she asked, suddenly distracted by the sight of a familiar square box sitting on a rich, dark wood dresser.

"Haven't you ever seen one before? Amazing contraptions, I must say. We used to only get three channels, and those were very fuzzy and not reliable at all, but since we've had cable installed, we get hundreds. Quite amazing."

"I'm finding it difficult to picture you and your friends sitting around watching the boob tube."

"My favorite show right now is 'The Apprentice.' You're fired!" Elrond said, in a voice that sounded vaguely like Donald Trump with a British accent, jabbing his finger in the air.

She snorted, covering her mouth with her hand. "What else do you like to watch?" she asked, curious now.

"Legolas and Haldir cannot seem to tear themselves away from Orange County Chopper. I'm not sure what it is about that show that captivates them so…it may be all the shiny metal," Elrond said derisively. "Our Ladies prefer movies on a channel called 'Lifetime' and Mithrandir likes to watch the Discovery Channel. Erestor, although he would never admit it, is hooked on those daytime soap operas, and Glorfindel has a fondness for the Price Is Right."

"And Elrohir and Elladan?"

Elrond looked quite annoyed, the tips of his ears burning a bright red as he answered, "Adult Pay Per View. They cost us a small fortune every month."

She snorted again, thinking that at least the fanfic writers had gotten that one right. Elladan and Elrohir were, apparently, a couple of perverts. She couldn't wait to meet them…she had the feeling they'd get along famously.

A knock at the door signaled Glorfindel's arrival with a bottle of wine and three glasses. He did not look happy at having to play servant, although he uncorked the bottle and poured a glass for all of them.

"Well, catch me up. What are we discussing?" he asked, sipping his wine.

"Adult Pay Per View," she answered, enjoying the look on his face as he choked on the wine.


	4. Chapter 4

Title: A Gentleman Caller Author: TICS Rating: PG13 Summery: Glorfindel pays someone an unexpected visit. Genre: Humor. AU…please do not expect anything even remotely resembling canon here. Feedback greatly appreciated…desired…wanted…needed…:D Disclaimer: I don't own it. I just play with it once in a while, and always make sure to put it back neatly, just where I found it. 

Chapter Four 

Glorfindel half stood, brushing at the droplets of red wine that he had managed to spray all over his robes, the table, and Elrond.

"Great Eru, Glorfindel! You're a thousand Ages old, have managed to die and be reincarnated, and still you choke on your wine like an Elfling at his Day of Majority Eve party!" Elrond sputtered, also standing, slapping away Glorfindel's hands as they tried to wipe the wine droplets off his chest.

"Okay, I absolutely must ask…what is an 'Elfling's Day of Majority Eve party' and what happens there?" she inquired as soon as she stopped snorting at Glorfindel's reaction.

"Nothing that a Lady would be interested in hearing about, I assure you!" Glorfindel asserted, his ears tingeing pink.

"My Lord Glorfindel, need I remind you that this particular 'Lady' once wrote about your Elfhood as being proud, erect, and so hard that it could split a tree trunk into kindling?" she said, lifting an eyebrow at the golden haired warrior. She crossed her arms over her chest, watching his face turn crimson. This 'not-suitable-for-a-lady's-virginal-ears-thing' that Glorfindel and Elrond had going needed to stop immediately, or she'd never learn anything worthwhile during her stay. "The same Lady who wrote about a certain Balrog Slayer and a certain Lord of Imladris having a rather steamy encounter in a hot spring…in great detail, as I recall. Would you like to hear a quote from that story to refresh your memory?"

"NO!" Elrond and Glorfindel shouted together, staring down at their visitor. She merely smiled sweetly at the two Lords, gesturing for them to reseat themselves.

Sighing, Elrond, trying to contain his blush and failing miserably, said, "Whenever an Elfling reached his age of Majority we would have a ceremony…it was a very dignified, somber, and momentous occasion in a young Elf's life…"

"But the night before his ceremony," Glorfindel continued, finally finding his tongue and the courage to use it, "a group of his Elders…usually fathers, brothers, uncles, and some of-age close friends, would "elf-nap" him from his bed and take him out for…"

"…a night of drinking, carousing and merrymaking!" finished a pair of new voices from the door.

Turning, she was startled by the pair of bookends standing just inside the bedroom door. The two dark-haired twins were identical, from their long ebony tresses to their soft suede-encased feet…identically tall, identically broad-shouldered, and identically devastatingly handsome.

"I remember our Majority Eve as if it were yesterday!" One of them laughed, elbowing the other in the ribs. "Ada brought us to that pub near the waterfall…do you remember, 'Ro?"

"Yes! I remember Glorfindel dancing naked on the table, while Erestor tried to stuff gold coins up his…"

"THAT IS QUITE ENOUGH!" Elrond bellowed, slamming his fist on the table.

She grinned broadly at the twins, who grinned back, completely regardless of Elrond's little tantrum, or the steam coming out of Glorfindel's ears.

"Milady, may I introduce my pretentious sons, Elladan and Elrohir, whose tongues seem to wag without discretion," Elrond continued in a more subdued voice, but with a look that screamed 'WARNING - BEHAVE YOURSELVES" to the twins.

"I've been looking forward to meeting you two," she said, as they came forward into the room. "I hear that you were the ones to discover the Internet, the fanfictions, and the Yahoo groups."

"Guilty!" Elladan laughed, lifting her hand and brushing his lips against her knuckles.

"Of that and everything else that's ever gone awry in Arda and Valinor…" Glorfindel muttered under his breath, frowning at the cavalier behavior of the Peredhil twin.

Not to be outdone, Elrohir stepped forward, also brushing his lips against her hand, giving her a half bow as well. "And you must be the woman who's been feeding our egos by writing those stories!"

She smiled, already liking these two. "Guilty - at least of being one of those writers!" she answered, the three of them laughing.

"Elrond, can you not do something about them? They encourage her and each other to be hopelessly vulgar," Glorfindel sniffed.

"I am sorry, Glorfindel…I thought you were a warrior…" she said, looking confused at the Balrog-Slayer.

"I was. I am!" he replied haughtily, sitting up taller in his seat and turning his turquoise eyes on her.

"Then surely you must be jaded enough for a little bawdy banter not to bother you so much…"

"I am not used to a Lady speaking so lightly of such matters," Glorfindel replied, narrowing his eyes. "As a matter of fact, I am not used to a Lady speaking of such matters _at all_!"

"Well, _get_ used to it. _This_ Lady does almost nothing _but_ speak of such matters. And read about such matters. And write about such matters…and…"

"Point taken," Glorfindel finally ceded, holding up his hand stopping her from saying anything else. He sighed and shook his golden head.

"Would you like to see our computer? It's a Mac…G5…" Elladan enticed, reaching to pull her from her seat.

"Oh, no… she is going to rest, and then we are going to have a civilized dinner. After that, she may visit the computer room, if she so desires," Elrond stated, shooing the twins away from the table.

He stood, as did Glorfindel, both bowing to their visitor. "I'm sure you'll enjoy dinner…these two will be there - unfortunately - but so will the rest of the Elves. You'll get to meet everyone else and ask all the questions you desire."

Glorfindel grimaced, thinking of Galadriel and Celebrian's reactions to the bold and saucy maiden they'd brought to Valinor. He was certain that it would not be pretty.


	5. Chapter 5

Title: A Gentleman Caller Author: TICS Rating: PG13 Summery: Glorfindel pays someone an unexpected visit. Genre: Humor. AU…please do not expect anything even remotely resembling canon here. Feedback greatly appreciated…desired…wanted…needed…:D Disclaimer: I don't own it. I just play with it once in a while, and always make sure to put it back neatly, just where I found it. 

Chapter Five 

After she had been resting a while, lying on that incredibly soft, carved sleigh bed (she was already trying to figure out how to stash it in her suitcase to bring it home with her since it beat the hell out of her lumpy, twin sized bed), a soft knock at the door startled her.

She sat up on the edge of the bed, trying to smooth both her hair and her clothes before rising to answer the knock. Glorfindel stood on the other side of the door, and he simply took her breath away.

He had changed from the deep ruby red robes she had seen him in before, to a dark blue tunic and matching leggings of what appeared to be butter soft leather. The tunic and leggings molded to his form like a second skin, perfectly highlighting the golden cascade of his hair, which hung free down his back, held away from his face only by two tiny braids on either side of his magnificent face.

He was dressed to kill.

And she died, right there at the door.

"May I have the honor of escorting you to dinner?" he asked, holding out his arm for her to take.

"Yes, of course. Thank you," she tried to say, but all that came out of her mouth was, "Wow."

"Wow? Is that some type of greeting from your world?" he chuckled, leading her out to the landing, knowing perfectly well the effect he was having on her.

"Wow."

"You're repeating yourself. Would you like to try for a different word this time? I thought you were a writer…surely you know more than one word…"

"Hot."

"Well…it's a start, I suppose." He smiled, leading her downstairs and into the dining hall, where a group of Elves were already gathered. She tore her eyes away from the Golden Lord, and scanned the assemblage.

If Glorfindel had taken her breath away, then the Elves in attendance reduced her to a pile of smoldering embers. Elrond looked resplendent in his most formal robes, even having chosen to wear his mithril crown for her benefit. He smiled, welcoming her as Glorfindel walked her up the aisle to the head table, and introduced her to the three silver-haired Eldar sitting near him.

Celebrian, and her mother and father, Galadriel and Celeborn, all welcomed the visitor graciously, extending their hands to be shaken as was the custom of Men. Glorious and beautiful, the three glowed softly at the table.

"My dear, I have been looking forward to meeting you!" Celebrian said, leaning across her husband. "I've read some of your stories and found them delightful!"

Elrond's eyes nearly popped out of his head as he turned to stare at his wife. "You…you read…HER stories?"

"Of course, dear…we've all read them," Celebrian answered, patting his hand patiently.

"Elrond…really…we're married women! Not to mention older than dirt!," Galadriel put in with good humor, "There's nothing in those stories we didn't know about…try out…or fantasize about ourselves!"

"Good Heavens…Celeborn…do you hear your wife?" Elrond asked, his eyes about to pop from his head onto the table like a pair of stuffed olives.

"I hear her…I hear her…I've _been_ hearing her for nearly ten millennia…" Celeborn replied, nodding his head wearily. "Believe me, there is nothing in those stories that could shock her. She probably could have written most of them herself…from experience."

Elrond's jaw dropped to the tabletop. Celebrian rolled her eyes at her husband's naiveté, then rang a small silver bell to summon dinner.

Dinner was a sumptuous affair, with several rich courses, and a great deal of fine wine being poured. Toward the end of the meal, Elrond stood and addressed the assemblage.

"I believe that we all are interested in our visitor, and I think that the best way to get to know one another would be with a series of individual interviews. We'll start first thing in the morning - who would like to go first?"

A hand shot up so quickly that it was nearly nothing but a blur. Looking at the owner of the hand, the visitor blanched.

Legolas stared at her with cold, hard eyes, his hand still in the air.

"Uh, oh…" She thought, flinching from the Elf's angry look. "Methinks he's still a bit peeved about the tutu thing…"

"Ah! Legolas…excellent. You will meet with our lovely visitor for breakfast tomorrow morning."

Elladan nudged Elrohir as they looked at Legolas looking at the visitor. "I think breakfast won't be the only thing being eaten tomorrow morning…he's going to chew her up and spit her out!"

"Do you have the video camera we bought on Ebay ready?"

"Of course…this MUST be recorded for posterity!" The Elven twins snickered behind their hands, still watching the Prince glaring at the visitor, and the visitor clearly shaking in her booties.


	6. Chapter 6 The Interviews Legolas

Title: A Gentleman Caller Author: TICS Rating: PG13 Summery: Glorfindel pays someone an unexpected visit. Genre: Humor. AU…please do not expect anything even remotely resembling canon here. Feedback greatly appreciated…desired…wanted…needed…:D Disclaimer: I don't own it. I just play with it once in a while, and always make sure to put it back neatly, just where I found it. The Interviews - Legolas 

She sat alone at a table set for two in the Feasting Hall, a bit bleary-eyed for lack of sleep the night before. She'd tossed and turned nearly all night, worrying about this interview. Not certain how one went about interviewing a pissed-off Elf, her fingers played nervously with the tiny tape recorder she'd brought with her.

The hairs on the back of her neck stood straight up, announcing his arrival in the room somewhere behind her. She couldn't turn, didn't want to turn. She wanted to run screaming back to her room and lock the door behind her.

His eyes were boring holes into the back of her neck, making her squirm uncomfortably in her chair. Visions of him standing there behind her, a smile gracing his full lips as he leveled an arrow at the back of her head raced through her mind. Or perhaps, it was his white knives that he was planning on using to detach the head of the writer who had dared take a muse with his name, and then dress said muse in nothing but a pink tutu.

Either way, it would be messy, and very, very painful - of that, she was certain.

He'd walked around the table and plopped himself in the chair across from her before she'd even realized he'd begun to move. His arms folded across his broad chest, he stared at her with unblinking bright blue eyes. She swallowed hard, as the gorgeous Elf across from her continued to make her squirm. He was dressed this morning in a simple dark green tunic and brown leggings, although, she thought, he could be dressed in a paper bag and still look wonderful. His golden tresses were pulled back into a single, long, thick braid that hung nearly to his waist. It was a while before she could convince her mouth to work. Pressing the 'record' button on the tape player, and summoning what little courage she could, she began.

Author: Um…Good Morning, Legolas…Your Highness…Your

Majesty...Your Excellency…

Legolas: Hmmph.

Author: I suppose you'd like to talk about the little 'muse' incident…

Legolas; Hmmph.

Author: You're probably wondering why my muse has your name…

Legolas: Hmmph.

Author: And why I've had him dressed in nothing but a pink tutu…

Legolas: Hmmph.

Author: Do you think you could _possibly_ say anything besides,

"Hmmph?"

Legolas: Uh huh.

Author: 'Good Morning' would be nice, although I'll take "screw

you" or "drop dead," as well…

Legolas: I am leaning toward the last one.

Author: I take it you're still annoyed with me.

Legolas: Annoyed does not begin to cover it.

Author: Why?

Legolas: _WHY_?

Author: Let me rewind the tape, but I'm almost certain that,

yes…"Why" was the question being asked.

Legolas: Have you ANY idea what it is like to have your namesake

traipsing about the Internet, dressed in nothing but a strip of fluffy pink fabric, his privates and his lily-white rear bouncing around for all the world to see?

Author: …

Legolas: WELL?

Author: Just a moment…you gave me a visual there…

Legolas: Explain yourself!

Author: It was funny.

Legolas: What?

Author: It was funny. It was cute, and it was very, very sexy.

Legolas: Sigh. Have you any idea of the constant ribbing I've had

to endure from the others? The twins leave printouts of certain passages of your stories taped all over Valinor! Haldir calls me "The Poncy One…" Why can't you just dress him like everyone else? A nice tunic and leggings…a robe…Great Eru, I'll even take a clown costume at this point!

Author: Clowns scare me.

Legolas: You are insane, aren't you?

Author: Glorfindel thinks my mother dropped me on my head as an

infant.

Legolas: That, at least, would explain things.

Author: Lots of other writers have a "Legolas" muse…why pick

on me?

Legolas: YOU happen to be sitting right in front of me…besides

which, other writers do not make a habit of continually having me…_prance_. I do not NOW, nor have I EVER, pranced. I have also never flitted, jete-ed, frolicked, or, Eru forbid, _swished_. I do NOT chase after butterflies, and on NO occasion have I EVER been enthralled by some something shiny. And - pay attention now, this is most important - I have NEVER, EVER made advances toward a male!

Author: Never?

Legolas: Never.

Author: Ever?

Legolas: NEVER!

Author: Not even at your Majority Day Eve Party?

Legolas: …who told you about that? Tell me at once, so that I might

seek them out and gouge their black heart from their chest. Was it Elladan? It was wasn't it…when I get my hands on that scheming little bugger I am going to…

Author: Aha! So you have…er…

Legolas: It was eons ago…I was young…I was stupid…I was very,

very drunk…

Author: So…you and Elladan, huh?

Legolas: I really hate you right now.

Author: I didn't make you jump Elladan's bones.

Legolas: I did NOT jump Elladan's bones.

Author: What part did you jump, then?

Legolas: I did NOT jump on anything!

Author: So, what did you do, then?

Legolas: I…well, it's complicated…I…wait just a moment! You don't

know anything…you're just trying to get me to admit…ARGH!

Author: Elladan will tell me…you know he will. It'll be his version of

the events, of course, which might be slightly exaggerated, or one-sided…

Legolas: This is blackmail. Blackmail is illegal - even here. Not to

mention most unbecoming of a young lady.

Author: Blackmail is such an ugly word…I prefer _coerced_.

Legolas; Fine. What do you want from me? Gold? Mithril? A romp

in the hay, I suppose…

Author: Wow…how do you manage to keep all that ego stowed in

that tiny noggin of yours?

Legolas: I am waiting for an answer…

Author: _Havo dad_, Legolas.

Legolas: I AM sitting…what the Mordor are you talking about?

Author: Nothing, I just always wanted to say that.

Legolas: You are insane. Certifiable. Have you Orc blood in your

family history? That must be it…it's the only explanation.

Author: Hey…wouldn't that make me an Elf? A Peredhil, like the

Twins - about fifty times removed, but a Peredhil nonetheless! Orcs used to be Elves, right…wow…I may have to get my ears done when I get home…

Legolas: This interview is over. I am going to find Elrond and see if

he has anything that might possibly knock you out until we can send you back.

Author: C'mon, admit it…you want to laugh…you know you do…

Legolas: I do not feel like laughing. You are a crazy woman.

Author: A crazy woman, yes…but a funny crazy woman.

Legolas: All right…I admit it…you're a tad bit funny.

Author: That's better.

Legolas: Funny…looking.

Author: ACK! He has a sense of humor…

The tension finally lifted, and they laughed. He had a great laugh - deep, warm, and free, when he finally let himself relax enough to let go. Breakfast arrived, the servants finally having the courage to approach the table, having thought for several moments that the Elf was going to murder the young woman, and then they would only need to serve breakfast for one - after they'd cleaned up the mess they were certain he would leave.

No more was mentioned of the pink tutu - or of Legolas' impropriety on the night of his Day of Majority Eve Party…she made a mental note to ask Elladan about that one…


	7. Chapter 7 The Interviews Erestor

Title: A Gentleman Caller Author: TICS Rating: PG13 Summery: Glorfindel pays someone an unexpected visit. Genre: Humor. AU…please do not expect anything even remotely resembling canon here. Feedback greatly appreciated…desired…wanted…needed…:D Disclaimer: I don't own it. I just play with it once in a while, and always make sure to put it back neatly, just where I found it. 

**The Interviews - Erestor**

She settled herself on a white stone bench on a lovely, flower-filled patio, admiring the sculptures that stood scattered about in the garden before her. Sipping a cup of herbal tea, she sighed at the beauty and serenity of the place. Her small tape recorder was set on the bench beside her, ready for her next interview.

Soft footsteps heralded the arrival of the Elf who had agreed to be interviewed next. Turning, she smiled at the shy, ebony-haired Elf as he courteously bowed to her before seating himself next to her on the bench. He was a beauty…that was certain. Aside from his inky tresses, which flowed free in a soft curtain about his shoulders and back, his eyes were most captivating…dark…black as night…deep pools of jet that one could easily get lost in. His features were delicate, almost feminine, but there was nothing feminine about his body…even though covered by rose-colored silken robes, she could see the muscular strength that lay beneath the fabric.

Author: Good afternoon, Master Erestor.

Erestor: Good afternoon. Please, my dear, simply Erestor will do nicely.

Author: Thank you, Erestor. Those are lovely robes, by the way.

Erestor: Oh, these old things? Do you like them? I had them made for last year's Midwinter Festival, although why I bother…

Author: Uh oh. Trouble in paradise? Anyone in particular?

Erestor: Glorfindel.

Author: What did he do?

Erestor: Nothing…that's the problem. He never notices when I've bought something new…or put up a new painting in our quarters…or had my hair braided differently…

Author: He takes you for granted, does he?

Erestor: Sometimes I wonder whether he even knows that I'm in the room, even when we're…you know…

Author: Males, Erestor…most of them are all the same. They suck.

Erestor: If he did, then we wouldn't be having this conversation…

Author: Erestor!

the tape runs on a bit at this point, as the author and Erestor giggle like schoolgirls.

Erestor: Well, it's true! He always comes in like gangbangers…

Author: _Busters_, Erestor…_gangbusters_…

Erestor: Right, well…_gangbusters_, and it's all slam-bam-thank-you-Erestor, with no care for my feelings or my needs…

Author: My sympathies, dear…how long have you two been together?

Erestor: Several millennia…ever since his reincarnation.

Author: Why do you stay with him? You're a beautiful Elf, Erestor…inside and out. Hasn't anyone else caught your eye in all that time?

Erestor: No, not really…I mean to say…well, you've _seen_ him, haven't you? Who can compare to _that_?

Author: But if he treats you badly, then looks are not a reason to stay.

Erestor: Oh, he doesn't really treat me badly…he can be very warm and sweet, when he wants to be…it's just that I don't think he really considers my feelings all of the time…

Author: Have you talked to him about it?

Erestor: Oh, I couldn't possibly! What in Valinor would I say to him?

Author: For starters, just what you've told me. Tell him what you want, Erestor…it's the only way he'll know. If he loves you the way you obviously love him, then he'll listen.

Erestor: I'll have to think about it…but thank you kindly for listening.

Author: My pleasure, Erestor. Now that that's out of the way, let's do what girls do best.

Erestor: And what might that be?

Author: Gossip! C'mon Erestor - give! You were Elrond's Advisor for more years that I can even fathom…you must know the scoop on just about everybody!

Erestor: Oh, dear…that wouldn't be very honorable, now would it? Telling tales out of school…

Author: C'mon Erestor…you know you want to…tell me something about, oh…Lord Elrond, that no one else knows.

Erestor: Well…you didn't hear it from me, but…once, when Celebrian was off visiting her Nana and Ada in Lorien…Elrond had a very naughty painting commissioned…

Author: That doesn't sound too bad, Erestor…

Erestor: Of himself…

Author: Still not gossip-worthy, Erestor…

Erestor: And Celeborn.

Author: BINGO! We have dirt!

the tapes run on again as the Author and Erestor giggle like nuns who've gotten into the sacramental wine

Erestor: Of course - and again, I will disavow ever having said this - there was the time that Haldir got so drunk during a visit to Imladris, that he peed in Elrond's soup bowl.

Author: No…

Erestor: We didn't tell Elrond…

Author: No!

Erestor: Until after dinner…

the tape runs on once again as the Author chokes on her own saliva, and Erestor has to bang her repeatedly on the back.

Erestor: Oh, my! Look at the time! I really must run, my dear…it has been a pleasure speaking with you - I haven't had so much fun in Ages!

Author: Thank you so much, Erestor! And don't forget what we spoke about…tell him what you want, and MAKE him listen!

With a soft kiss on the cheek, Erestor left, his step a bit lighter than before. Wishing she could be a fly on the wall in their suite when Erestor confronted Glorfindel, she picked up her tea cup, drained the last dregs from it, and wandered back into the house. Her next interview would be coming shortly, and she wanted to get another cup of tea before he arrived.

Still snorting periodically over what Erestor had divulged during their interview, she wondered if her next interviewee would be half as interesting.


	8. Chapter 8 The Interviews Haldir

Title: A Gentleman Caller Author: TICS Rating: PG13 Summery: Glorfindel pays someone an unexpected visit. Genre: Humor. AU…please do not expect anything even remotely resembling canon here. Feedback greatly appreciated…desired…wanted…needed…:D Disclaimer: I don't own it. I just play with it once in a while, and always make sure to put it back neatly, just where I found it. 

**The Interviews - Haldir**

He was waiting for her in the solarium when she returned with her cup of tea. She paused in her step as his gray eyes met hers, so forceful was his stare that it stopped her in her tracks. Quickly regaining her fortitude, she stepped boldly up to the couch on which he sat, perching herself on the edge of the cushion on the opposite end, and pushing the play button on the tape recorder.

Looking over at her, raising an elegantly arched eyebrow, he gracefully scooted himself over, sitting so close that she could feel the heat from his thigh on her leg. She couldn't help but catch his scent - a combination of exotic, musky sandalwood and clean spring rains. That, in conjunction with his fabulous features, overwhelming masculinity, and thick curtain of shimmering silver hair, made her just a tad bit uncomfortable - and horny.

Author: Pardon me, but would you mind moving over just a bit? We have an entire sofa here…we really don't need to sit one on top of the other…

Haldir: No…I do not think so…I like where I am, thank you.

Author: Surely, you'd be more comfortable with a bit more space around you, March Warden…to stretch out…say, on the other side of the sofa?

Haldir: Again, I must say no. This is fine…although, as a matter of fact, now that you mention it, I'd be even more comfortable with you on my lap. Come here.

Author: Back off, Mallorn Boy…you're invading my personal bubble.

Haldir: I have every intention of invading something, but your personal bubble isn't exactly what I had in mind.

Author: Jeez…there's enough testosterone in this room to choke a horse.

Haldir: Hmmph. Testosterone is not the _only_ thing I've got enough of to choke a horse.

Author: Good grief! Well, at least the fanfic writers have gotten one thing right - you are truly the most arrogant creature I have EVER met.

Haldir: You want me. Admit it.

Author: I want you _what_? Dead? In stocks? Tied to an anthill naked and covered in honey?

Haldir: Oh, I think the 'naked and covered in honey' part sounds about right. Come now…admit it. You want me. I know you do. I've read your stories.

Author: If you've read my stories, then you know what I can do to you in them.

Haldir: What can you _possibly_ do to me that you haven't already done? Put me in a skimpy black speedo? You already did that. Have me wrestle another Elf half-naked in a mudwrestling contest? You did that too. Have me seduce my own brothers? You did that _twice_."

Author: _Three_ times, but whose counting? How does giving you breasts and entering you in the Miss America Beauty Pageant sound?

Haldir:…it sounds as though I'd win.

Author: I could have you stricken with a disfiguring disease.

Haldir: Ha! No, you can't…I've read Tolkien, too, you know. Elves don't get sick. That would be against canon, and no one would believe it. You'd get hate mail.

Author: Damn. I could have you die in battle…

Haldir: I've also seen the movies…been there, done that.

Author: I know…I know something that I could do to you that would take you down a peg or two, Mr. Elf.

Haldir: What? Come now…tell me. I'm on pins and needles.

Author: I could make you have a steamy love affair.

Haldir: Like that would be original.

Author: With Gollum.

Haldir: …you wouldn't. Not even _you_ would sink that low.

Author: Try me. Let's see…Haldir, being the oversexed, arrogant son-of-an-warg that he was, couldn't find anyone in Lorien, Imladris, or Mirkwood that could satisfy his unending libido. One day, while walking near a babbling brook, he heard a raspy, slithery voice say, "Oh, my precioussss…it wants usss…"

Haldir: I've moved! I've moved! Okay? Stop…please…for the love of all that's holy, stop right there!"

Author: It needsss usss…preciousss…

Haldir: I think…I hear Galadriel calling me…yes…I can hear her…I have to go!

The Author smiled to herself, shutting off her recorder as the big Elf bolted from the solarium, as pale as ice. "She who holds the keyboard holds the power," she reminded herself, chuckling quietly.

"Milady…" a voice whispered from somewhere behind the sofa. Looking over her shoulder, she saw Legolas inching his way into the room from the other direction.

"I am sorry…I couldn't help but overhear your conversation with the March Warden," he said, smiling an almost evil smile.

"You did?"

"Yes…and if you promise to write that last story…the one with him and Gollum…I'll let you bear my children."

Rolling her eyes, thinking that there seemed to be no end to these Elves' pomposity, she said, "Well, thank you most kindly for offer, Your Highness, but I'll have to pass. I think that just the threat is enough to keep him on his toes for a while."

Watching Legolas walk away, just a bit dejected, since he obviously would have loved to have rubbed Haldir's nose in a story like that, she shook her head, thinking, "Elves. Ya gotta love 'em."


	9. Chapter 9 The Interviews Elladan and E

Title: A Gentleman Caller 

**Author: TICS**

**Rating: PG13**

**Summery: Glorfindel pays someone an unexpected visit.**

Genre: Humor. AU…please do not expect anything even remotely resembling canon here. Feedback greatly appreciated…desired…wanted…needed…:D 

A Gentleman Caller 

**The Interviews - Elladan and Elrohir**

Dinner was a much more subdued affair, since she ate it alone in the relative peace of her room. After having her nerves shot by interviewing Legolas, then her sides split by interviewing Erestor, and her patience tested by interviewing Haldir, she needed some quiet 'alone' time.

It was, however, short-lived.

No sooner had she put down her fork, that there came a sharp rapping on her door. Without waiting for an answer, the door opened and Elladan and Elrohir strode in, proceeding to make themselves comfortable on her bed, with barely a nod in her direction.

Looking over at the two handsome faces staring at her from her bed, smiling mischievously and crooking their fingers at her, she sighed, rolling her eyes.

"I can hear you just fine from here," she said, shaking her head at them.

"What? What did you say?" Elladan shouted, holding his hand to his delicately pointed ear.

"We can't hear you…you're too far away," Elrohir yelled, also putting a hand to his ear.

"You're Elves…your hearing is better than mine, and I can hear _you_ just fine!"

"Must be the air in here…it's too thick, or something, right 'Ro?" Elladan asked, turning to his twin.

"Yes! That's it…the air is too thick…we can't hear you at all. You'll just have to come sit by us…" Elrohir agreed, patting the bed between them.

"Tough tooties. Learn to read lips…I'm not going anywhere _near_ you two on a bed!" she called back, biting back the grin that threatened to spread across her face.

"Coward!" Elladan said, frowning at her.

"Chicken!" Elrohir put in, his frown equaling his brothers.

"Bwwaacckk," she clucked back at them. The two brothers laughed, and sat up on the bed.

"I suppose that you two are my next interview, huh?" she asked, taking out her tape recorder and turning it on. "Well, let's get started."

Author: I was told that you two were the first to discover the Internet, fanfictions, and the yahoo groups…

Elladan: Yes…that was us. When we found all those pages with stories about us, we got very excited.

Author: Yes, I'll just bet you did!

Elrohir: Cheeky! He meant that we found it very interesting…reading those stories people wrote about us.

Elladan: Right…we didn't get really excited until we found the adult web sites…

Elrohir: Exactly! Did you know that some people draw pictures of us? Pictures of us…erm…au naturale?

Elladan: I can't for the life of me figure out how they know what we look like, though…

Elrohir: Well, they usually get you right, but they never make me big enough…

the tape runs on for a while as the twins snigger together.

Author: If you could collect yourselves for a moment, we can continue…what did you think of the love stories?

Elrohir: Oh, we really liked them…all those cute ellith and human girls…falling all over themselves to be with us…it was quite a boost to our egos.

Author: And the other stories…you _know_ the ones I mean…

Elladan: No…what other stories?

**Elrohir: Yes, tell us…what other stories?**

Author: Don't make me say it…you know…the _OTHER_ stories…

Elladan: Sorry…can't place what you're talking about…

Elrohir: Nor can I. I'm afraid you'll just have to spit it out.

Author: Fine. The _slash_ stories…you and Aragorn. You and Legolas. You and Haldir. You and every male Elf in Arda. You and…you…

Elladan: Ohh…_those_ stories! We liked them, too.

Elrohir: _Especially_ them.

Author: Really? Especially? _Really_? Wow…I never really thought you two were…

Elladan: _Snort_! Glorfindel was right - you _are_ too easy!

the tape rolls on for a while as the twins guffaw loudly

Author: Laugh all you want…I happen to know all about what happened at Legolas' Day of Majority Eve Party…told me all about it…all the sordid little details…

the tapes rolls, but there is dead silence in the room.

Elladan: He _didn't_!

Elrohir: I'll _kill_ him. Kinslaying or not, I'm going to _kill_ him!

Elladan: I can't believe he was so open with you about that…he hasn't even talked to _us_ about it in years…

Elrohir: Damn that Wood-Elf!

Author: _Now_ who's too easy?

the tape rolls on while the Author laughs madly at the confused looking twins

Elladan: You're evil, do you know that?

Elrohir: Yes…if you were an Elleth, I'd say you were related to us!

"the tape continues to roll as the sounds of scuffling and shrieking is heard

Author: Let me up, you big goofs!

Elladan: Not a chance…

Elrohir: Kiss me you fool!

Elladan: Get away from me, 'Ro!

Elrohir: I love you 'Dan!"

Elladan: I'm not kidding, 'Ro!

Author: Please…I can't breathe…stop making me laugh!

the tape continues to roll, the Author gasping for air, while Elrohir chases Elladan around the room making kissy noises.

Author: That's it! I cannot take one more moment of this! OUT! OUT! OUT! Get out, both of you! Right now, or I'm calling your father!

Slamming the door behind them, the Author leaned her weary head against the door. "They're going to kill me…I just know it…I'm never going to survive this visit…"


	10. Chapter 10 The Interviews Glorfindel

Title: A Gentleman Caller 

**Author: TICS**

**Rating: PG13**

**Summery: Glorfindel pays someone an unexpected visit.**

Genre: Humor. AU…please do not expect anything even remotely resembling canon here. Feedback greatly appreciated…desired…wanted…needed…:D 

A Gentleman Caller 

**The Interviews - Glorfindel**

She looked down at the cup of tea before her at the breakfast table in the Feasting Hall, and wondered for the umpteenth time since she arrived why, if they could have cable, television, and computers in Valinor, they couldn't manage a simple cup of coffee.

Shaking her head resignedly, she sipped the hot tea, wondering who it was that she was going to interview that morning. Just as she sipped the blistering liquid, a bellowing voice echoed through the room, causing her to scald her tongue.

"YOU!"

Rolling her eyes, she wondered why she got all the angry Elves in the early morning.

"What did you do to my Erestor?" Glorfindel thundered, coming around to face her, leaning down and planting both hands down firmly on the table. His golden hair was tousled, his robes rumpled, and his boots were unlaced. He looked as though he had either just rolled out of bed, or had been dragged several yards by wild horses.

He still looked like a god - a angry, vengeful, slightly wrinkled god, but a god nonetheless.

"Good morning, Glorfindel. I'm fine…and you?"

"Don't 'Good morning' me! What did you say to him?"

"Just a moment…" she said, turning on the tape recorder.

Author: Now, you were saying…?"

Glorfindel: I asked you what you did to my Erestor!

Author: The same thing I'm doing to you…nothing. Just talking.

Glorfindel: You did something! He's not the same…he's…changed!

Author: _Changed_? Into what…a frog? A platter of roast beef? What?

Glorfindel: Don't be impertinent. He's different…he's not the same Erestor!

Author: What happened, Glorfindel?

Glorfindel: Sigh. I got back to our suite late last night…I'd been in a meeting with Elrond and Celeborn…

Author: A meeting…riigghhtt…

Glorfindel: It _was_ a meeting!

Author: Whatever you say, my Lord.

Glorfindel: All right…we were drinking and playing poker…are you happy now?

Author: Please, go on…

Glorfindel: When I got back to our suite, it was late…and Erestor…he was…well…

Author: Come on…out with it…

Glorfindel: He was waiting up for me…and he wanted to…oh gods…he wanted to…

Author: What? What did he want to do Glorfindel? Redecorate? Take over the world? What?

Glorfindel: He wanted to _talk_!

the tape runs on for a bit, and you can almost hear the Author rolling her eyes at the Balrog Slayer.

Author: Talk? From the way you were acting I'd thought he might have grown feathers and learned to quack…for heaven's sake, Glorfindel, what's wrong with _talking_?

Glorfindel: I don't…_talk_.

Author: I have news for you, Oh Lord of the House of the Golden Flower…this _is_ talking.

Glorfindel: I don't _talk_ with Erestor…at night…I act.

Author: Ah…and here we come to crux of the problem. So you rush into your suite like gangbusters…

Glorfindel: _That's_ what Erestor said!

Author: And you find yourself with a very annoyed mate who refuses your attentions until you've listened to what he had to say…

Glorfindel: Were you hiding in the closet?

Author: Did you listen?

Glorfindel: I really didn't have any choice in the matter. I thought for a moment he was going to send me to the Halls of Mandos…again…for a moment, I was sorely tempted to run out an find another Balrog.

Author: What did he say?

Glorfindel: Evidently, I don't attend to his needs. Personally, I think I attend to him quite well.

Author: Glorfindel…I don't think Erestor was talking about sex.

Glorfindel: I was being sarcastic.

Author: He loves you, you know…

Glorfindel: I know, I know…he loves me, I'm very lucky to have someone like him, I don't know how good I've got it, I don't appreciate what I've got, and I better learn quickly _how_ to appreciate it, or it's going to find someone who can.

Author: Ooh…read you the riot act and gave you an ultimatum, did he?

Glorfindel: This is all your fault! I don't know how, but it is…I'm _sure_ of it.

The interview ends as Glorfindel begins to walk away from the table.

"Glorfindel? Where are you going?"

"I am under orders to find a florist, a candy shop, and a jewelry shop, and be back in time for lunch in my suite…with flowers, candy, and a piece of jewelry expensive enough to put me in debt for a long time to come."

She smiled, watching the fierce Balrog Slayer literally jog out of the room, hastening to do his bonded's bidding. Erestor must have really let him have it last night…before letting him have it last night…_all_ night, from the looks of him.

She slipped the tape recorder into her pocket, humming happily, thinking to explore the library before her next interview.


	11. Chapter 11 The Interviews The Ellith

Title: A Gentleman Caller 

**Author: TICS**

**Rating: PG13**

**Summery: Glorfindel pays someone an unexpected visit.**

Genre: Humor. AU…please do not expect anything even remotely resembling canon here. Feedback greatly appreciated…desired…wanted…needed…:D 

A Gentleman Caller 

**The Interviews - The Ellith**

Midmorning, she found herself on a ladder in the library, perusing such titles as _"Riders of Rohan - the Good, the Bad, and the Ugly," "Rings and Things - An Illustrated History of Eldar Fashion Accessories Through the Ages," and "1,001 Recipes for Leftover Lembas." _Pulling one such dusty tome from the shelf, she opened it to a random page, sneezing as a puffball of dust assaulted her nose.

"My dear, surely you aren't interested in those dry old textbooks…"

Looking down over her shoulder, she smiled, seeing the only two Ellith she'd met thus far, Galadriel and Celebrian, waving at her. She replaced the book and climbed down the ladder, joining the ladies who waited for her.

"I believe we're next to be interviewed…" Celebrian said, showing her to a comfortable-looking grouping of leather chairs set in one corner of the library.

She took out her tape recorder, placed it in on the table between the chairs, after they'd been seated, and pressed the record button.

Author: Good morning, ladies…

Celebrian: Good morning, my dear. I hear you've been having a string of quite interesting interviews thus far…

Galadriel: You do realize that you've passed up the opportunity of a lifetime when you interviewed Haldir, do you not?

Author: I didn't consider being pawed at by an arrogant, hulking Silvan to be the opportunity of a lifetime…

Galadriel: Trust me, it was, and you - how do you say it in your stories? Oh, yes, you blew it.

Celebrian: If she blew it, she wouldn't be able to walk yet.

the tapes rolls on for a moment as the two Ellith snort naughtily, and the Author picks her jaw up off the floor

Author: Really, Ladies! I wouldn't have thought you two capable of such bawdiness…

Galadriel: Oh, _please_…we're Elves, we're immortal, and I can say with utmost confidence that we've seen and done everything there is to see and do, in that respect.

Author: Really? _Everything_?

Galadriel: Try us. Literally. C'mon…

Author: Thanks for the offer, but I think not…

Galadriel: Sorry…the twins and Haldir told me you that you wouldn't…well, I just assumed that you were…

Author: You know what happens when you assume, right?

Galadriel: Point taken. So, what would you like to know about?

Author: I suppose the first question that comes to mind is, what's it like to be immortal?

Celebrian: Dull.

Galadriel: Bor-ing. I mean, how many times can you tie your husband up and…

Celebrian: Mother! Too much information.

Galadriel: But she asked…

Author: Yes! I did ask, Celebrian…

Celebrian: If Celeborn finds out you've been talking out of turn, Nana…

Galadriel: Then it's _my_ turn to get tied up.

the tape runs on while the Author and Celebrian stare openmouthed at Galadriel

Galadriel: What? Oh, come on now, Cel…don't try to tell me you and Elrond have never played any bedroom games…

Celebrian: Not _those_ types of games, Mother!

Galadriel: You poor dear…I always said he was a shmuck.

Celebrian: Mother!

Galadriel: She married beneath her, you know.

Celebrian: Mother…I'm warning you…

Galadriel: Celebrian, everyone knows what Elrond's problem is…

Celebrian: What would that be, Mother - although I should know better than to ask.

Galadriel: Simply put, someone shoved a stick up that Elf's ass that he hasn't yet had removed.

Celebrian: You're a fine one to talk! At least MY husband doesn't bounce himself on every Elf that walks by!

Galadriel: Dearie…you just haven't caught him yet. As a matter of fact, I remember a certain painting he had commissioned featuring himself and your father that I found to be quite…lifelike.

the tape rolls on as the two Ellith stare vehemently at each other in silence

Author: Well…not to change the subject, because it's been just _fascinating_ - riveting, actually - but do you suppose I might ask another question?

Galadriel: Of course, my dear…what is it?

Author: What do you two ladies think of the sites Elladan and Elrohir found on the Internet?

Celebrian: I absolutely adore them! All those lovely stories…all those very lovely, very naughty stories…

Galadriel: Not to mention all those very lovely, very naughty drawings…

Author: It doesn't bother you that people are writing stories about your husbands…your children…yourselves?

Galadriel: Of course not…why would it? Personally, I really like the ones where they put Celeborn together with Haldir and his brothers…my, but those really get my ticker racing…

Celebrian: Try to understand, dear…we've all been around forever, practically - some of us longer than others, but still - and we've pretty much run out of fantasies of our own. So to find this treasure trove of new fantasies…well, it was the best thing to happen to us since we sailed West!

Galadriel: Exactly! It's particularly fulfilling when we get the opportunity to act out those fantasies…

Celebrian: MOTHER! Too much information again!

Galadriel: Oh, put a sock in it, Celebrian! She must know by now that we aren't frigid…by any stretch of the imagination.

Celebrian: She still doesn't need to know the more intimate details, Mother.

Author: Yes, she does.

Galadriel: See? It's all in the interest of education, my dear daughter…purely educational.

Celebrian: Right. Educational. What's next? Visual aids?

Galadriel: Excellent idea! I'll go fetch Celeborn, and you fetch the twins…

Celebrian: That's it, Mother! I am going to go to the cellar and find a couple of bottles of the strongest wine we have. Then I am going to drink those bottles of wine, and hope that when I awake sometime next week this conversation will have been stricken from my memory!

the tape rolls on as Celebrian stalks out of the room

Galadriel: Sigh. Unfortunately, this is why she and Elrond make such a good pair. They both have sticks up their asses…

She watched the Lady of Light glide out of the library after her daughter.

Turning off the tape recorder and pocketing it, she shrugged and turned her attention back to the floor to ceiling shelves of books, wondering where Elrond had stashed the collection of Elf porn that the twins had told her about. It was here somewhere, and she was determined to find it.


	12. Chapter 12 The Interviews Celeborn

****

Title: A Gentleman Caller

Author: TICS

Rating: PG13

Summery: Glorfindel pays someone an unexpected visit.

Genre: Humor. AUplease do not expect anything even remotely resembling canon here. Feedback greatly appreciated:D

Warning: Patricia, slash-lover extraordinaire, has requested that I include a choking hazard warning: may induce uncontrolled spewage on the keyboards. Keep fic away from food and beverages.

A Gentleman Caller

The Interviews - Celeborn

On the very last shelf she chose to search in the library, she found a huge tome, oddly clean compared to the rest of the dust-covered volumes, whose spine read, "Being Human - The History of the Lesser Known Tribes of the Second Born." Pulling it from the shelf, she noticed that it seem to weigh far more than she would have thought, even for a book its size. Cracking open the cover, she quickly realized why it weighed as much as it didshe had found Elrond's secret stash of Elf porn.

The pages inside the book had been carefully cut away, creating a hiding place for the several dozen thin, pulpy booklets hidden within it. Closing the book, smiling broadly, she carefully descended the ladder while cradling the massive tome against her chest.

Looking about in all directions, making sure no one was around, she took the book over to a quiet, darkened corner of the library, sitting on a sofa. Placing the book on the seat next to her, she again lifted the cover, pulling out one of the thin booklets from inside and examining it.

A hand drawn Elleth graced the cover, demurely looking out at the reader, lips parted, tongue licking her lower lip, her gown pulled down to reveal the tops of her breasts, just above her crossed arms. The title of this particular work was "Urui Teleth - The Ellith of Imladris." Frowning, she tried to work out the translation. "Hot Rear?" she thought, cocking an eyebrow. "Oh" she thought to herself, "must be the Elvish equivalent for 'hot ass.' Pervy Elrond"

She quickly flipped through the booklet, noting with interest the various drawings within - very nicely rendered, each one showing an Elleth in various states of undress and provocative poses. Scanning the text, she read, "My turn-ons include midnight walks along the Gray Havens, and satin sheets." Snorting contemptuously, she put the slim volume down and picked up another.

"That one is one of my favorites," came a voice from over her left shoulder.

Squeaking in surprise, she slammed closed the cover of the big book, shoving the booklet she held in her hand under a pillow, as if whoever was speaking was too moronic to know she'd been reading it. Damn Elves with their ability to walk without making sounds. She hated when they sneaked up on her like that.

"No need to hide it, dearI've seen Elrond's collection many timeseven contributed a few booklets myself."

Slowly turning around, managing a weak, embarrassed smile, she looked at Celeborn, who was grinning down at her. He walked around the sofa to sit next to her, on the other side of the large book.

Opening the cover, he riffled through its contents, pulling a thin volume out from near the back of the pile. "You might find this one most interesting" he said, smiling lasciviously as he handed it to her.

One glance at the cover was enough to make her face turn fluorescent pink. A very handsome, very naked, very well-endowed Elf graced the cover, lying spread-eagled on an animal pelt rug.

The color in her face went from fluorescent pink to dark crimson as she realized the strong resemblance between the male in the rendering and the Elf sitting next to her.

Speechless - one of the very few times in her life, mind you, that she had been rendered completely incapable of speech - her eyes cut over to where the Silver Lord sat.

Celeborn said nothing, but saucily cocked an eyebrow at her.

Swallowing hard, she gingerly put the volume back in its hiding place. "Umnice likenessum, I mean" Trying to cover her discomfort with revelation that not only had Celeborn posed for that rendering, but that Elrond had it stashed in his porn collection - what did THAT say about the Imladris Lord - she turned and pulled out her tape recorder. Setting it on top of the large book that, thankfully, still sat between herself and Celeborn, she turned it on. The tape recorder - notoh, never mind.

Author: SoLord Celebornhow are you this afternoon?

Celeborn: Fine, thank you. Just fine. Wonderful, actually.

Author: I'm so glad to hear thatnice weather we're having

Celeborn: Truly lovely weather, yes.

Author: Umhow about those Red Sox?

Celeborn: Oh, for Eru's sakejust ask me.

Author: Ask you? Umask you

Celeborn: About the drawingyou know that's really what you want to ask me about

Author: Okayabout the drawingwas that you?

Celeborn: Delighted you asked! Yes, that was me.

Author: Who drew it?

Celeborn: Erestor. He's quite gifted. Excellent eye for detail.

Author: Uh huh. Has a bit of a problem with proportion, though, doesn't he?

Celeborn: Oh no, my dearI assure you the proportions are entirely correct.

Author: Eep.

Celeborn: Want to see?

Author: LORD CELEBORN! Please, sir, cover yourself immediately!

Celeborn: Snort.

Author: What are you _doing_? Pleaseput that thing away before someone loses an eye.

Celeborn: But it's lonely. Come here and make friends.

Author: ARGH! You're worse than Haldir!

Celeborn: Worse? No, no, my dear. Bettermuch, much better, I assure youjust ask anyone.

Author: PleaseLord CelebornI'm trying to be gracious here, butget that thing away from me!

Celeborn: For Eru's sakewhy? It doesn't biteit's winking at you.

the tape rolls on, the sounds of running feet and screaming being heard as Celeborn merrily chases the Author around the sofa.

Celeborn: Now, I wonder why she ran off like that? Skittish young humanhello? Is this thing still on? Hello? I am Celeborn, the Silver Lord of the Golden Wood of Lothlorien. The young lady whose device this is has unfortunately run off, leaving it behind. Since our interview was not over, I suppose that I shall have no recourse but to perform a narrative of the history of my life up until this point

the tape rolls onand onand onand the longwinded Elf drones onand onand on

Eventually, the tape ran out, unbeknownst to Celeborn, who continued to prattle on well into the night


	13. Chapter 13 The Interviews Elrond

Title: A Gentleman Caller 

**Author: TICS**

**Rating: PG13**

**Summery: Glorfindel pays someone an unexpected visit.**

Genre: Humor. AU…please do not expect anything even remotely resembling canon here. Feedback greatly appreciated…desired…wanted…needed…:D Warning: Patricia, slash-lover extraordinaire, has requested that I include a choking hazard warning: may induce uncontrolled spewage on the keyboards. Keep fic away from food and beverages. 

Chapter 13 

**The Interviews - Elrond**

She picked up her tape recorder from the library early in the morning of the next day, relieved that Celeborn was no longer lurking in the library, noting in passing that Elrond's porn stash was missing from the sofa where she'd last seen it. It also was not on the shelf, and she assumed that the Lorien Perv Lord had taken it with him whenever it was that he finally left the library. Seeing that her tape had run itself out, she figured that he'd been in here talking to himself for at least an hour after she'd run screaming into the halls.

She had an appointment that morning to interview Lord Elrond, and didn't want to be late…she had the feeling that it was going to be a doozy.

Finding her way to the study where she had been told that the interview was to take place, she rapped sharply on the mahogany door.

"Come in…"

Opening the door, she stepped into the room, allowing the door to close softly behind her. She looked over to her right and immediately noticed Erestor.

The Advisor was standing before a piece of stretched canvas on an easel, wearing nothing but a white smock, a jaunty red beret atop his gleaming ebony tresses, and holding a paintbrush in his hand.

At least, she _hoped_ it was a paintbrush.

Her brain barely had the time to properly register the information her eyes were sending it before she noticed the reclined figure on the sofa on the other side of Erestor.

Draped over the sofa, one knee bent, one arm thrown behind his head, the other holding a bunch of dark purple grapes over his mouth, lay the Imladris Lord himself…in all his Peredhil glory.

"Um…I think perhaps I should come back later…"

"No, no, my dear," Erestor said, waving his free hand at her to enter, "you won't disturb me…I can work through anything…"

"Right, but…I think perhaps it would be better…"

"No, no…come in, come in…no need to be shy. Erestor is painting my portrait for the Main Hall," Elrond called from the sofa.

"My Lord…I would really feel more comfortable if you were, er…wearing something when I interviewed you."

"I am wearing something…I am wearing my mithril crown," he said, gesturing toward the shining metal headpiece with his bunch of grapes.

Touché.

"Okay…if you insist…"

"Oh, we do…we do…"

Damn pervy Elves.

She sat herself on the chair furthest from the artist and his model, which wasn't very far at all. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath, hoping fervently that her tape recorder would continue to work despite the bath of drool she just knew she was going to be giving it.

Turning it on - the tape recorder, not…oh, you know the drill - she sat back in her chair and let her eyes wander back and forth between Erestor and Elrond.

She must have looked like she was having a seizure.

Author: So, Lord Elrond…you're having this portrait done for the Great Hall?

Elrond: Yes! It needs something classy. Nudes are always classy. I wanted Erestor to paint it on black velvet, but he refused.

Erestor: Don't pout, Elrond…I told you that I'm saving the black velvet for Glorfindel's portrait. He'll look better on the black velvet because of all that lovely golden hair of his.

Elrond: Bah. Next thing you'll be telling us is that blondes have more fun.

Erestor: They do with me…

Author: Drool.

Erestor: Elrond, your grapes are moving.

Elrond: No, they aren't. I am holding them perfectly still…see?

Erestor: Not those grapes.

Elrond: Oh. Sorry…it's a bit chilly in here.

Author: Drool.

Elrond: I met Celeborn this morning, and he was telling me that you'd had a most interesting interview with him yesterday…did you know that those booklets were first edition collector's pieces, signed by the artist?

Erestor: That's me!

Elrond: Of course, I only have them so that I could read the articles.

Author: Drool. Rolls eyes. Drool.

Erestor: Elrond, you're moving again!

Elrond: Sorry…I can't help it. Those articles were very stimulating.

Author: Drool. Clunk.

The tape rolls on, but it is clear that the interview has come to an end, since the Author has fainted dead away, hitting the floor with a rather loud thump.

Erestor cocks an eyebrow at her, holds out his thumb, judging the composition of the piece he is working on of Elrond, and quickly paints in the unconscious artist into a corner of the canvas.

Her butt in the air, head down in a puddle of her own drool, the Author's interview with Elrond is saved for posterity.


	14. Chapter 14 Glorfindel ReVisited

Title: A Gentleman Caller 

**Author: TICS**

**Rating: PG13**

**Summery: Glorfindel pays someone an unexpected visit.**

Genre: Humor. AU…please do not expect anything even remotely resembling canon here. Feedback greatly appreciated…desired…wanted…needed…:D Warning: Patricia, slash-lover extraordinaire, has requested that I include a choking hazard warning: may induce uncontrolled spewage on the keyboards. Keep fic away from food and beverages. 

**Chapter 14**

**Glorfindel Re-visited**

Later that afternoon, the author finally awoke from her swoon to find herself lying on the sofa Elrond had been reclining on. Evidently, while she was unconscious, the Elves had picked her up from her former position of facedown on the floor in a puddle of drool and put her on the couch. Unfortunately, she noticed upon rising, that Erestor's painting of Elrond was gone...along with all of her clothes. A note lying on the table next to her explained it all.

"Dearest Author,

While you were napping, we took the liberty of taking your clothes to be washed and dried…they were soaking wet from the pool of drool you were sleeping in. You really should have that narcolepsy checked out.

Sincerely,

Elrond and Erestor"

Who said chivalry was dead?

Now, unfortunately, she was stuck in the study, sans clothing. She had to get back to her room, but wasn't about to go traipsing through the hallways in her birthday suit. Although in this place, no one would probably even notice. Looking around the room, she spied two fairly large pieces of blank canvas from Erestor's supplies.

She peeked out of the door to the study, looking both ways to make sure no one was coming, before gingerly stepping out into the corridor. Carefully positioning the two pieces of canvas like a sandwich board, she tried to hurry to get to her room before anyone spotted her.

Just as she got abreast (no pun intended) of her door, she froze as a familiar deep voice called to her.

"Just the person I was hoping to see! Although, I must say…I didn't expect to see so much of you."

Cringing, she squeezed both eyes shut, hoping against hope that if she couldn't see him, then he couldn't see her. No such luck.

Cracking open one eye, she saw Glorfindel looking down at her. To be more precise, he was looking down right between the two pieces of canvas.

"Madam…I really must suggest that you rethink your wardrobe. First I see you in that tiny napkin you called a nightdress, and now this! Were you born without a fashion sense, or is your lack of style due to some unfortunate accident?"

"My lack of fashion sense, as you so eloquently put it, is due entirely to Elrond and Erestor…so _I_ really must suggest that you take it up with them! Now, if you'll excuse me, I hear my underwear calling me."

She stormed into her room, slamming the door behind her.

As if a closed door would stop Glorfindel.

Shrieking, since she had already dropped the two pieces of canvas, the author scrambled to find something to cover herself with. She settled for ducking behind the curtains.

"Would you kindly hold still a moment? I need to speak with you. And kindly stop that caterwauling…my ears are quite sensitive!" he said imperiously. "Honestly, where did you acquire your manners? The County Zoo? An orangutan would have better behavior."

"MY manners! You barged in after I clearly slammed the door in your face! Can't you take a hint?"

"Are you trying to insinuate that I'm dense?"

"If the insinuation fits, then wear it!"

"You are exasperating!"

"You are infuriating!"

"I can see right through those curtains - they're sheers!"

The author was struck silent by his last remark. Believing that he'd finally gotten the last word, Glorfindel continued with the reason for his visit.

"I need to purchase something for Erestor…tomorrow is the anniversary of his Begetting Day. I was going to buy him a lovely white wicker wastebasket, but…since he's become rather, shall we say…bitchy…of late, I thought perhaps you'd have a better suggestion."

"You were going to buy him a garbage can for his birthday? Now I know how you died…it wasn't a Balrog, was it? You gave someone a garbage can for their birthday and they killed you, didn't they?"

"That was quite unnecessary. I've already admitted that a wastepaper basket might not be the best choice, considering Erestor's condition as of late…which I might add, is _entirely_ your fault!" Glorfindel huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. "You may as well come out from behind there, you know…you're not hiding anything from me, and that window faces the archery field. I believe that is Haldir about to shoot an arrow into your moon as we speak."

"Close your eyes!"

Glorfindel sighed, doing as he was told.

The author ran into the bath, throwing on her robe. When she returned to the bedroom, Glorfindel was looking at the wall directly opposite from where she had been standing, at the arrow that was now imbedded in it.

"Glorfindel, let me ask you a question. If I kill Haldir, will he be reincarnated?"

"Most assuredly."

"Damn."

"Might I ask again for your opinion on a gift for Erestor?"

"Glorfindel…you really need to learn to be a little more creative…a little more romantic. Buy him something pretty…a new robe…a new hair clip…ANYTHING but a garbage can!"

"Thank you…I'll take it under advisement," Glorfindel said, giving her a slight bow and exiting the room.

She stalked to the wall and pulled out the arrow, turning it over in her hands. "I am SO going to make him sleep with Gollum…" she thought.


	15. Chapter 15 Erestor's Begetting Day, Par

Title: A Gentleman Caller 

**Author: TICS**

**Rating: PG13**

**Summery: Glorfindel pays someone an unexpected visit.**

Genre: Humor. AU…please do not expect anything even remotely resembling canon here. Feedback greatly appreciated…desired…wanted…needed…:D 

**Chapter 15**

**Erestor's Begetting Day, Part I**

The rest of the night passed without incident, unless one would consider the twins paying an unexpected call at two in the morning an incident.

The author, snug in her bed, with visions of Pulitzers dancing in her head was rudely awoken by the sudden, fierce bouncing of her person on the mattress. Screaming "Earthquake" at the top of her lungs, she was catapulted from the bed, to land squarely on her rear on floor.

As her vision cleared and she realized that the only things still shaking were her hands and her bed, she spotted two identical dark-haired faces beaming down at her from the mattress.

"YOU TWO! Are you insane? What are you doing in my room at this hour, and why do you feel it necessary to turn my bed into a 8.5 on the Richter Scale?"

"We were bored, so we came to see our favorite author!" Elladan laughed, laying down on the bed and resting his chin on his hands.

"Haven't you ever been bored?" Elrohir asked, mimicking his brother's position on the bed. "We get bored all the time…boredom and immortality go hand in hand, you know."

"Swell. Couldn't you go bounce Glorfindel off his bed? Or better still, bounce Haldir all the way to Mordor?"

"You don't like Haldir very much, do you?" Elrohir asked, cocking an eyebrow at her - looking very much like his father as he did so. "Why?"

"Why? Oh, I don't know…perhaps because he tried to turn my butt into a porcupine last night?" the author huffed.

The twins roared with laughter, rolling around on the mattress like a couple of lunatics - which, of course, they were.

"Snort! I can't believe he missed his shot! Wait until we tell Legolas!" Elladan guffawed, holding his belly.

"_Legolas_? Wait until we tell _Celeborn and Galadriel_!" Elrohir laughed, gasping for air, tears of mirth trickling down his cheeks. "The Great March Warden of Lothlorien missed his shot!"

"I think _you're_ missing the point, here…" the author muttered, frowning at the two laughing Elves on her bed. "The point is that he tried to shoot me…"

"Oh, I'm sure he was aiming for a non-vital spot…Elves only shoot the ones they like, you know," Elladan said, wiping the tears from his eyes.

"You people have a very twisted sense of humor, do you know that?"

"It's the whole "Cupid" thing…get it?" Elrohir explained, causing his brother to collapse into fits of giggles again.

"Right. Cupid," the author smirked. "Will you two please leave so I get back to sleep? It's not even dawn yet."

"You humans sleep too much. You spend half of your life snoring…" Elladan said in between giggles. "Sleeping is not the best use for a bed like this!"

"Aye! I can think of at least two dozen other activities that involve a bed…and not one of them includes snoring!" Elrohir agreed, cocking an eyebrow at the author.

"Unless one of the participants in said activity is Erestor…then…Zzzzzzzzz…." Elladan added, both twins snorting loudly again.

The author grabbed her pillow and blanket from off the bed, and retreated to a quiet corner of the room, curling herself up on the floor, trying to go back to sleep. As far from the lecherous twins as she could get, she muttered something about "crazy, sex-obsessed Elves" under her breath, leaving the them to continue to roll about on her bed, laughing their Elven asses off.

When she next awoke, the twins were snoring loudly on her bed, a tangle of arms, legs, and long jet hair. "They may be pretty, but they all seem to have deviated septums…gods, they sound like chainsaws!"

Their glazed, open eyes freaked her a bit also, as she skirted the bed, entering the bath to wash up and change. Dressed in a comfy sweatsuit, she slipped from the bedroom, leaving the twins still sawing logs on her bed.

The first person she encountered - thankfully he had actually gotten himself dressed this morning - was Erestor. The Advisor smiled at her, taking her elbow to escort her to breakfast.

"You look tired, my dear…didn't you sleep well?" he asked, as they walked toward the dining area.

"Would you have slept well if the twins decided to pay you a visit at two in the morning?"

"Ahh…enough said, my dear. Those two are a quite a handful…actually, each one is a double-handful…quite well-endowed for Elves their age…"

"ERESTOR! EW! Knock it off…don't you people think of anything besides sex?" the author shouted, pulling away from the Advisor and looking at him sternly.

"There's something else?" he asked, looking at her askance.

"Never mind. By the way, Happy Birth…er, Begetting Day, Erestor."

"Oh, thank you, my dear! I do hope you'll be staying for the party tonight…"

"I'm not sure that would be a very good idea, Erestor…considering what you people do on normal days, I'm almost afraid to find out what a party would like…"

"Nonsense! It will a wonderful party…well, at least until everyone gets drunk. Then it will be same as every other special occasion…Legolas and Elrond will sing - badly - and Galadriel and Celebrian will try to seduce Glorfindel - again, very badly (those two couldn't seduce a bear out of the woods with a bucket of honey and a tranquilizer gun) - and Haldir will recount every order he ever gave as Captain of the Galadhrim, until someone finally hits him over the head with something heavy."

"Sounds like a blast, really, but I think I'll probably have to be heading back home…I've got enough material from the interviews for a whole series of fanfics…" she answered, trying to be polite.

Changing the subject, Erestor said, "I wonder what Glorfindel has bought me for my Begetting Day present…last year he gave me a pestle and mortar set. Can you imagine? I nearly sent him back to the Halls of Mandos for that."

Snorting to herself, the author wondered what he would have done if Glorfindel followed his original plan and gave Erestor a garbage can for this year's present. That would be worth sticking around for…if he didn't listen to her advice and buy something else.

"Maybe I will stay for the party, Erestor…but only if you promise that I can be the one to hit Haldir over the head."


	16. Chapter 16 Erestor's Begetting Day, Par

Title: A Gentleman Caller 

**Author: TICS**

**Rating: PG13**

**Summery: Glorfindel pays someone an unexpected visit.**

Genre: Humor. AU…please do not expect anything even remotely resembling canon here. Feedback greatly appreciated…desired…wanted…needed…:D 

**Chapter 16**

**Erestor's Begetting Day, Part II**

At the breakfast table Haldir sat smugly, elbowing Legolas every so often, nodding in the author's direction. Of course, Haldir was under the impression that the big smile that appeared on the author's face whenever she looked at him was due entirely to his charm and devastatingly good looks - when in fact it was simply the author picturing herself hitting him over the head with something heavy later that evening.

The twins staggered into breakfast late and rather rumpled, their hair uncombed, with little 'sleepies' still in the corners of their gray eyes, pausing to give the author a peck on the top of the head. At Elrond's raised eyebrows they said in unison, "We all slept together."

Every head turned to stare at the author, who -when she managed to pick her jaw up from the table - replied, "We did not! They were on the bed…I was on the floor!"

Legolas looked at the twins with newfound respect. "You can reach the floor from the bed? Most impressive!"

Knowing that this was going to be fodder for a million fics, the author turned on the tape recorder:

Author: I did _not_ sleep with them…well, I did, but I didn't have sex with them!

Elladan: You just don't remember.

Haldir snorting: What does that say about your performance?

Elrohir: Our performance leaves nothing to be desired!

Author: There _was_ no performance!

Legolas: I heard the bed creaking…_loudly_…

Author: That was _them_.

Elladan: See, what did we tell you?

Author: I wasn't on it with them!

Legolas: Like I said, bed to the floor? Impressive."

Author: Let me make this perfectly clear…I did NOT have sex with those Elves!

Haldir: Well, then…which Elves did you have sex with?

Author: I haven't had ANY sex!

Elrond: Ever? Pity.

the tapes rolls on as the author, sputtering, stares incomprehensibly at the gathering of pointy eared, sex-obsessed morons at the table.

Rumil: I had sex once.

Author: Once?

Rumil: Or twice…

Author: Or twice?

Rumil: Are you a parrot? Twice.

Author: I find that hard to believe.

Rumil: Oh, it was hard, believe it.

Author: Hard to have sex?

Orophin: I thought it had to be hard to have sex…

Author: This conversation is getting out of hand…

Rumil: Getting it out of my hand was the reason I had sex to begin with.

Author: I know that I'm going to be very sorry that I asked, but…why only twice?

Rumil: Oh, did I forget to mention…I meant once or twice a day.

Author: I knew I was going to be sorry I asked.

Haldir: Snort. Little Brother, I wouldn't brag about having it only once or twice a day!

Rumil: With yourself doesn't count, Haldir.

Author: Snortsnortsnortsnortsnort!

Choking on her own laughter, knowing she'd be dead ten times over if Haldir's looks could really kill, the author grabbed her tape recorder and left the breakfast table with intention of finding someplace safe to hide from Haldir until the party later that night.

_Later that night…_

The Elves positively glowed that night when the Author arrived in the dining room for Erestor's Begetting Day party. She hated when they did that…it hurt her eyes.

"Hey, _Rudolph_…tone it down a little, will ya?" she said to Legolas, shielding her sensitive eyes.

He toned himself down a watt or two, smiling sheepishly at the Author.

Elrond rapped sharply on his crystal goblet with a fork, trying to get everyone's attention. "I wish to be the first to congratulate Erestor on his Begetting Day! Many, many more, Erestor!"

"Of course there will be many, many more, Elrond…I'm immortal, you nit," Erestor answered under his breath so that only the Author heard. Aloud, he said, "Thank you so much, Elrond. And thank you to everyone!"

A great cheer rose in the dining room - not because of Erestor's words, but because the bar opened up. Like cattle they stampeded, calling out their orders to the poor, beleaguered barkeep.

"Here we go…" the Author thought, watching the Elves swigging back mug after mug. "This shouldn't take too long at all."

"Erestor…I wish to present you with a token of my love and affection," Glorfindel said loudly, slurring a bit, a foam mustache coating his upper lip. He handed Erestor a gaudily wrapped package that looked to the Author to be shaped suspiciously like a wastepaper basket.

"Oh, Fin…you shouldn't have…" Erestor purred, accepting the cylindrical package from his bonded.

Tearing open the packaging, he stared dumbfounded at the gleaming white wicker wastepaper basket.

"Uh oh…this isn't going to be pretty…" the Author mumbled, wincing as Erestor slammed the wicker basket over Glorfindel's head, and stormed off.

Just about that time, two very loud, very off-key voices began singing "The Name Game" song. Glancing over her shoulder, the Author saw Legolas and Elrond arm in arm, swaying on their feet, singing - or attempting to.

"Haldir, Haldir, Bo-Baldir, Banana Fana Ro-Raldir…fee fi, Fo-Faldir, Haldir!"

Surprising, Haldir did not appear to plow his fists into their lovely Elven faces. Looking for him, the Author spotted him droning on and on to Elladan and Elrohir, who had both fallen asleep with their heads face down on the table. Smiling, the Author picked up the nearest heavy object - a silver plated spittoon, and crept up behind him.

"It was then, standing on the wall at Helm's Deep, slicing through everything that stood in my path with my sword…"

CRASH.

"Ooh…" the author said as Haldir looked stunned for a moment, then slowly fell forward onto the table, "that's gonna leave a mark."

TBC…


	17. Chapter 17 Apologies

****

Title: A Gentleman Caller

Author: TICS

Rating: PG13

Summery: Glorfindel pays someone an unexpected visit.

Disclaimer: I don't own themI just play with them for a while, and always make sure to put them back exactly where I found them.

Genre: Humor. AUplease do not expect anything even remotely resembling canon here. Feedback greatly appreciated:D

Chapter 17

Apologies

Having found her way back to her chambers after conking Haldir over the head at the party, the Author snuggled down in her soft sleigh bed, quickly falling asleep.

Just before dawn, a feeling of heaviness awoke her from a deep slumber. Cracking open her eyes, they met two silvery-gray, very, very angry eyes, staring hard at her.

"Haldir?" She asked, trying to focus. His face was so close to hers that she could feel his breath on her skin.

He held up her tape recorder, pressed the play button and put it on the nightstand before facing her again.

Haldir: "I want this recorded for evidence. _Someone_ hit me over the head last night."

Author: "Really? Geewho would do a thing like that?"

Haldir: "Yes, _really_. I happen to have a good idea of who it was, too."

Author: "You do? BoyI guess they're in trouble, huh?"

Haldir: "You could say that."

Author: Guess you should be off, tracking them down, then"

Haldir: I have it on very good authority that it was _you_."

Author: "Who, _me_?"

Haldir: "No, the _other_ you. Yes, you!"

Author: "Not meI would _never_"

__

The tapes rolls on a bit as Haldir leans his head forward a fraction of an inch, and plants a toe-curling kiss on the Author's lips

Author: "Knock that off, Haldir."

Haldir: "No." _Kiss_. "Not." _Kiss_. "Until." _Kiss_. "You." _Kiss_. "Confess." _Kiss_.

Author: "Stop that. I didn't" _Kiss_.

Haldir_: Kiss_. "I." _Kiss_. "Know." _Kiss_. "It." _Kiss_. "Was." _Kiss_. "You." _Kiss_.

Author: "You could be mistaken" _Kiss_.

Haldir_: Kiss_. "Wrong." _Kiss_. "Answer." _Kiss_.

Author: "OkayI admit it. I hit you over the head with the spittoon."

Haldir_: Kiss_. "Better." _Kiss_.

Author: "But only because you tried to shoot an arrow into my butt." _Kiss_.

Haldir_: Kiss_. "Sorry." _Kiss_.

Author: "You can stop nowI confessed." _Kiss_.

Haldir_: Kiss_. "No, don't think so." _Kiss_.

Author: "_Haldir_" _Kiss_, _kiss, kiss_

the tape rolls on for quite a while, the only sounds heard being grunts, groans, moans, the creaking of a mattress, and one very startled, "Oh my godthat is **NOT** going to fit!"

Round about noon, the Author carefully eased herself out from under Haldir's arm, and crawled out of bed. Finding walking to be a bit difficult that morning, she wiped a hand over her face, not quite sure which idea was more difficult to come to grips with - what she'd done that night with Haldir, or the fact that she'd taken so long to cave in to begin with.

She quickly washed and dressed, tiptoeing past the bed where Haldir lay, his silver mane sprayed across the pillows, one tendril lying across his face to be floated up in the air each time he exhaled, snoring quite loudly. Evidently, deviated septums were a common ailment among Elves.

"And he complained that _Gimli_ breathed too loudly" she thought to herself, stifling a chuckle.

Quietly she slipped out of the room, softly closing the door behind her, heading toward the kitchen to scrounge up something to eat.

Entering the kitchen, she spotted Glorfindel at one of the tables, a look of pain on his face, and an icepack on his head. He cracked open one eye at her approach, then closed it again, sighing deeply.

"_You_," he said, shifting the icepack slightly over a rather large bump on his forehead.

"Don't act as if this were _my_ fault, GlorfindelI _told_ you not to give Erestor a garbage can for his Begetting Day present!"

"I knowI knowI should have listened," he muttered, wincing, and shifting the icepack again.

"The question is, what are you going to do about it?" the Author asked, helping herself to piece of weybread and jam.

"Do? What can I do _now_? The deed has been done, and Erestor is not speaking to me. He locked me out our chambersI had to spend the night bunked in with Legolasand he snores."

"Him, too?" the author said under her breath. Aloud, she replied, "Glorfindeljust go and buy him something niceapologize and really mean itI'm sure he'll forgive you."

"Easy for you to sayhave you ever had to apologize to an angry Elf? It isn't the easiest thing in the world, I'll have you know"

Thinking about her night spent apologizing to Haldir, and how difficult walking was this morning, the author nodded her head in sympathy with the Slayer. "I can only imagine, Glorfindel. Stillyou'll just need to grin and bear it. If Erestor means as much to you as you say he does, then you'll live through it."

"I'm immortalI live through everything - except for that Balrog thing, but even that's not in the same category as facing Erestor when he's this angry." He sighed, and rose from the table. "I suppose I should listen to you this timealthough Eru knows how I'm going to get Erestor to listen to me."

"You might want to ask Haldirhe's got a great technique," the Author advised, grinning at the look of confusion on the Balrog-slayer's face, as he blinked at her, and left the kitchen.

The halls were especially quiet that afternoon as the author wandered aimlessly, wondering what to do with herself. The Elves were conspicuously absent, probably tending hangovers in the privacy of their chambers. She didn't want to go back to her chambers since Haldir was probably still sawing wood on her mattress, and so, found herself walking around literally in circles through the hallways.

As she passed a darkened doorway, a hand reached out and grabbed her, pulling her into the unlit room, pushing her back up against the wall.

"Legolas?" the Author asked, squinting to make out his features.

"How _could_ you?" he growled, his lovely brow creased in a ferocious frown.

"How could I _what_? What is it with you people and the inability to use complete sentences?"

"You slept with Haldir!"

"How did you find out about that? When I left him, he looked as though he might not wake up until next Thursday!"

"So you admit it!"

"What's to admit? It's no business of yours anyway!" the Author countered.

"No business of mine? _Of course_, it's my business! Do you have a "_Haldir_" muse? No, you don't."

"What are you talking about? What does my muse have to do with this?"

"_You_ have a "_Legolas_" muse. One that you insist on dressing in a tutu and having prance about!"

"And your point - you do have a point, don't you?"

"My _point_ is that if you were to sleep with anyone, then it should be me!" he spat, his frown intensifying.

"Good grief, Legolasget a hold of yourself - you're spitting all over me. How, exactly did you come to that brilliant deduction?"

Looking at the Author as if she were dimwitted, he replied, "It should have been me because then you would be able to tell your readers that I - meaning your muse - am not gay!"

"I never said you, ermy musewas gay, Legolas" the Author replied.

"You imply it all the time! There's only one thing left to doyou'll have to sleep with me twice."

"_Twice_? _Once_ isn't even going to happen, never mind _twice_!"

"Oh, yes it is. You'll sleep with me twice - once to make up for the once you slept with Haldir, and once so that I'm ahead in the game."

"This is not a game, there is no winner or loser, and I am NOT sleeping with you!"

"Just so that you are aware I'm a much better shot than Haldir. I _won't_ miss," Legolas growled.

"Are you threatening me?"

"That is not a threatthat is a promise!" He hissed, releasing her and stalking away.

Watching him retreat from the room, the Author thought, "So my choices are a.) sleeping with the golden Prince of Mirkwood, or b.) getting an arrow through my assdecisions, decisions


	18. Chapter 18 Going Home?

****

Title: A Gentleman Caller

Author: TICS

Rating: R

Summery: Glorfindel pays someone an unexpected visit.

Disclaimer: I don't own themI just play with them for a while, and always make sure to put them back exactly where I found them.

Genre: Humor. AUplease do not expect anything even remotely resembling canon here. Feedback greatly appreciated:D

A/N: I have changed the rating of this fic to "R" since it seems to be developing a tad more bawdier than I had first envisioned it to be.

****

Chapter 18

Going Home?

"Quite a little pissing match you've managed to set off between Haldir and Legolas. From what I've heard the Prince of Mirkwood was striding around the House snarling like an angry warg all night," Glorfindel said, looking up over his bowl of cereal at the breakfast table the following morning.

"None of which was my fault. If the March Warden didn't have a mouth as big as his ego, Legolas would never have found out about my little indiscretion," the Author replied, angrily slathering a slice of bread with jam. "Besides which, what I don't understand is how I got stuck between the two of them anyway!"

"If you were stuck between the two of them there might not _be_ any more problem" Erestor said thoughtfully. "Have you considered that as an option?"

"_Not_ an option, Erestor."

"Pity. We could have sold tickets."

"Erestor!"

"Did you see the lovely bracelet Glorfindel gave me for my Begetting Day?" Erestor asked, changing the subject. He held up his wrist from which dangled a beautiful, mithril charm bracelet. A single glittering charm hung from it, catching the light. Peering closely, the Author recognized it as a very tiny, perfectly detailed and proportioned, erElfhood.

Looking up at Glorfindel with a cocked eyebrow, she watched as the Slayer turned purple, frowning over his cereal bowl. "A word of advice," he muttered, "never let a sculptor use hot wax to take an impression."

"Finally learned your lesson about Begetting Days and trash receptacles, did you?" she asked him, smirking.

"Do not rub it in," the Slayer replied, looking a bit sheepish, wiggling about uncomfortably in his seat. "I don't see how I'll soon forget it." Erestor reached over and patted his bonded's arm reassuringly.

"Consider it a lesson learned, dear" he cooed. Turning again to the author he asked, "I hope you'll not let the current unpleasantness force you to leave us, my dear"

"Sorry, Erestoras soon as Glorfindel has finished his breakfast, I want off this rock. I want back in my own ratty little bedroom where the only Elves I need to worry about are the ones that make shoes."

"You have Elves making your shoes? I would think they'd have better taste in footwear," Glorfindel remarked, casting a glance down at my worn tennis shoes.

"I was being sarcastic, Glorfindel. I'm going up to my room to pack. Let me know when you're ready to go."

"I'll have to find MithrandirI haven't seen him at all since you arrived, but I suppose he's around somewhere" Glorfindel replied, looking quite put out by the proposition of having to actually do anything that day. No wonder, though, since judging from the way he continually shifted in his seat, he was probably still feeling the effects of his sculpting session.

She sighed, sitting on the lid of her suitcase, trying desperately to get it to close. "It must be Murphy's Law for Travelersthe amount of items brought with you on a trip will triple their mass upon having to pack for the return trip," she thought, bouncing a bit to get the last latch locked.

Walking into the bath to do a final sweep to make certain she had packed everything, she heard a knock at the bedroom door. Calling out for whomever it was to enter, she rolled her eyes at the bottle of Herbal Essence Shampoo she'd forgotten to pack. Frowning, she thought about the bulging suitcase in the other room, and decided to leave it behind.

Striding back into the bedroom, she stopped dead in her tracks at the sight of her visitor. Speechless - Elves seemed to have that effect on her - she gaped at the tall figure standing next to her bed.

"I heard that you were planning on going back. I cannot allow that to happen without first evening the score between myself and that cretin Silvan, and so I have decided that drastic times called for drastic measures."

Her eyes bulged from their sockets (actually making that annoying "AHH-OO-GAH" sound) as she stared at Legolas, not quite sure words even existed to describe him.

He was standing by her bed.

Wearing a pink tutu.

And nothing else.

Eep.

After several long minutes of staring openmouthed at the Prince, who himself stared back, his arms folded across his chest while certain interesting parts of him blushed bright red, the Author finally found her voice. Unfortunately for Legolas, what came out of her mouth was insane laughter.

"Ha! Ha ha ha ha ha !"

His frown intensified as he asked, "What are you laughing at? I thought that this is what you wanted! This is how you dress your muse, isn't it?"

"Where did you _get_ that?" she asked, snorting continually, even though she covered her mouth and nose with her hands trying to keep the snorts in.

"I had it made by one of our most talented seamstresses from the descriptions in your stories" he replied, his frown fading into a look of chagrin. "I thought you would like it" He suddenly looked quite like a little boy lost.

What could she do? The Elf had actually had the Elven cajones to put on a tutu for her. Plus, this was Legolasin a tiny strip of fabricand nothing elsefor goodness' sake, she was only human.

"One down, one to go," Legolas sighed, throwing an arm over his eyes and quickly beginning to snore.

"Someone needs to get these Elves to a good ear, nose, and throat specialist," the Author thought, cringing as an especially loud and grating snore invaded her ears. "And I hate to tell you, buddy boy, but once is all you're getting."

She eased herself off the bed, got dressed, and lugged her bulging suitcase out of the room, closing the door softly behind her. Dragging the heavy suitcase after her, she made her way down to the kitchens.

"Surely she isn't leaving us already!" Elladan asked Elrohir, looking up from his plate. "She's only barely just arrived!"

"She can't leave yet," Elrohir said, swiping a piece of fruit from his brother's plate, and earning a smack on the hand from him in the process. "She hasn't yet slept with Legolas, nor either one of us."

"Nor Adathough I hardly blame her for that" Elladan laughed, smacking the table.

"Nor Celebornnor Rumil, nor Orophin," Elrohir said, counting the names off on his fingers. "You can't count Erestor or Glorfindelwell, maybe Glorfindel - I've heard that his bow shoots both ways."

"Perhaps, but from what I understand, she hasn't even _interviewed_ Thranduil yet, and he has his kingly leggings in a royal knot over it," Elladan informed Elrohir.

"She very well can't leave without interviewing the King, now can she? That would be in very poor taste."

"_Hello_I'm in the room, guys. Please stop talking as if I were invisible!" she muttered, frowning at the pair with her hands on her hips. "I am _not_ sleeping with anyone, and I'm sorry I didn't get to interview Thranduil, but he'll have to get over it. I'm going home!"

"Not just yet you aren't," came Glorfindel's voice from behind her.

She spun around to face him. "What do you mean, Glorfindel? You were supposed to find Mithrandir"

"I could not find him. The blighter's probably holed up somewhere with his staff and a serving wench."

"You must mean with his staff _in_ a serving wench, Glorfindel!" Elladan roared, his brother laughing heartily along with him.

"Ewwthank you for _that_ mental picture" the Author shuddered, while the twins snickered. "So what am I to do now that I can't get home?"

"You _could_ interview Thranduilyou really should, you know. He'll make life unbearable for all of us if you leave and don't interview him," Elladan suggested.

"I supposeis he anything like his son?" the Author asked worriedly.

"Legolas? Nonothing like Legolasnothing at all like him," Elrohir said.

"Elrohir, what are" Elladan asked, getting a quick, hard jab in the ribs from his twin.

"What is it that you're not telling me, Elrohir?" the Author asked, suddenly suspicious, since it seemed Elrohir thought it necessary to break a few of Elladan's ribs rather than allow him to speak.

"Trust meThranduil is _nothing_ like his son"

Not quite believing him, but really having no choice, she shrugged, popping open her suitcase - which proceeded to spew undergarments and hair care products all over the kitchen - picked up her tape recorder, and left the room in search of the former King of Mirkwood.

She didn't hear Elrohir's voice whisper, "he's much, much worse" or the laughter that followed.

TBC


	19. Chapter 19 Interview with the King

Title: A Gentleman Caller 

**Author: TICS**

**Rating: R**

**Summery: Glorfindel pays someone an unexpected visit.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them…I just play with them for a while, and always make sure to put them back exactly where I found them.**

**Genre: Humor. AU…please do not expect anything even remotely resembling canon here. Feedback greatly appreciated…desired…wanted…needed…:D**

A/N: I have changed the rating of this fic to "R" since it seems to be developing a tad more bawdier than I had first envisioned it to be. 

**Chapter 19- Interview with the King**

Having asked at least a half dozen servants where she might find Thranduil, the Author found herself entering one of the outside gardens. Spotting the tall blonde figure at the far end of the garden, she cleared her throat in a dainty, ladylike fashion, hoping to get his attention.

Nothing.

She cleared her throat again, louder this time than the time before.

Still nothing.

She cleared her throat yet again, this time sounding like a cat coughing up a hairball.

"You really might think about getting that checked…it sounds awful."

"Your Majesty? I've been trying to get your attention."

"A simple, "Good Afternoon, Your Majesty," would have sufficed. You needn't have hacked up a lung."

"Fine. "Good Afternoon, Your Majesty," the Author repeated, sticking her tongue out at the back of the Elf's head.

Nothing again. Silence.

"Is this some type of game you like to play…because it's really annoying. I wished you a good afternoon - the least you could do is reply in kind!" the Author huffed.

"I would reply in kind if you had wished _me_ a good afternoon."

"I just did!"

"No, you wished _His Majesty_ a good afternoon. I am not His Majesty…I am Galion, his butler."

"Why didn't you just tell me that to begin with?"

"You didn't ask. His Majesty, the King, is awaiting you in his chambers."

"Oh, no…you can just go and tell him that I've had quite enough of Elves in bedrooms, thank you very much. He can just trot his royal patootie down here to the gardens."

"I beg your pardon!" Galion gasped, turning to face the author, his eyes wide.

"You heard me."

"You wish me to tell His Majesty, King Thranduil Oropherion, former Sovereign of the Eryn Lasgalen, to 'trot his royal patootie' down here to the gardens?"

"I believe that is what I said."

"Have I done something to you for you to wish death upon me?"

"He can't be that bad…"

"Would you like to place a wager? I've served him since he was an Elfling…trust me, young lady…he _is_ that bad."

"You aren't going to tell him, are you? Fine. I'll go to him, but only because I want this interview over with…lead away, Lord Galion."

"I've already told you…I'm a butler, not a lord."

The Author rolled her eyes. "You people take everything so literally…you're a butler? Fine, then buttle…" she said, making shooing motions with her hands to get him moving.

Shaking his head at the audacity of the human female, Galion led her back inside the House, and up the stairs to Thranduil's chambers.

Galion opened the door to Thranduil's chambers, allowing the Author to precede him into the room. He closed the door behind them, before walking to a small boom box sitting on a table near the window. His shoulders slumped as he rolled his eyes heavenward, and took a deep breath.

"May I present, His Majesty…Thranduil Oropherion…the King…" he said in a long-suffering voice, pushing a button on the boom box and swiftly leaving the room.

The Author looked confused at the butler's actions until the music from the boom box started playing.

_"Since my baby left me…I found a new place to dwell…it's down at the end of Lonely Street…Heartbreak Hotel…"_

"Oh, no…" she thought, her eyes swinging from the boom box to the door to Thranduil's bath. A tall figure stood there, silhouetted against the door. The Author clapped her hand over her mouth, desperately trying to keep from guffawing in the King's face.

Thranduil had struck a pose in the doorway, dressed in a white leather bell-bottomed jumpsuit, complete with a short red silk lined cape and covered in rhinestones. His narrow waist was cinched with a wide white belt, with what could possibly be the world's largest belt buckle reading "T.C.B", again in rhinestones. Although his long hair remained a deep golden color (thank Eru), his eyes were covered with gigantic aviator sunglasses.

"Your Majesty?" she managed to squeak.

"Thank you for coming. Thank you verra much," he replied, stepping into the room.

"Um…you're welcome."

"Well little lady…please, have a seat," Thranduil said, gesturing to a chair near the boom box, which was currently belting out "Teddy Bear."

"Thank you, Your Majesty."

"Please, call me "T," he said, smiling a cocky grin at her.

She quickly put the tape recorder on the table, and pressed the "record" button, after turning off the boom box.

Author: I see that you, er…admire the King.

Thranduil: I am the King.

Author: I meant Elvis Presley.

Thranduil: So did I.

Author: I beg your pardon?

Thranduil: Come now…you didn't really think I died, did you? I just came home.

Author: Elvis was born in Tupelo, Mississippi.

Thranduil: That's what my agent wanted everyone to believe.

Author: But your mother…Gladys…

Thranduil: An actress by the name of Wilma Frook.

Author: No…no! Elvis aged over the course of his career…he even got fat! How do you explain that, Mr. Elf Who Thinks He's Elvis?"

Thranduil: Make-up. Never heard of special effects technicians? Amazing what they can do with latex. Wanna hear me sing?"

Author: Not particularly. Tell me about Greenwood.

Thranduil: I'd rather tell you about Graceland.

Author: Greenwood!

Thranduil: Graceland!

Author: Greenwood!

Thranduil: Take your clothes off.

Author: OH NO! Back off, you Elven Version of A Holiday Inn Elvis Impersonator!

Thranduil: Then let me sing.

Author: Fine…go ahead and knock yourself out.

the tapes rolls on as Thranduil does a fair imitation of Elvis singing "Blue Suede Shoes."

Author: It's been very…_interesting_…interviewing you, Your Majesty…er, Elvis…er…Mr. T.

Thranduil: You're verra welcome. Here, have a scarf.

Author: Thank you…

The Author switches the tape recorder off, but Thranduil beats her to the door, opening it to admit Galion, who evidently, has been waiting for his cue. Thranduil slipped out of the bedroom, while Galion walked to the boom box. Fast forwarding it a bit, he hit the play button again. _"Glory, glory Hallelujah…glory, glory Hallelujah…"_

Galion cleared his throat, once again rolling his eyes heavenward, before announcing, "The King has left the building."

TBC…


	20. Chapter 20 One Track Minds

Title: A Gentleman Caller 

**Author: TICS**

**Rating: R**

**Summery: Glorfindel pays someone an unexpected visit.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them…I just play with them for a while, and always make sure to put them back exactly where I found them.**

**Genre: Humor. AU…please do not expect anything even remotely resembling canon here. Feedback greatly appreciated…desired…wanted…needed…:D**

A/N: I have changed the rating of this fic to "R" since it seems to be developing a tad more bawdier than I had first envisioned it to be. I would also like to thank everyone who reviewed thus far…you guys are the absolute best! One more seems to be eating my punctuation marks in this chapter. I've loaded it about a thousand times, and can't seem to get it to read the correct way, so please…insert punctuation marks as needed…:D 

**Chapter 20**

**One Track Minds**

The Author found her way back down to the kitchen after having interviewed the King, humming "Hound Dog" under her breath. Seating herself at the table, she plugged her earphones into the tape recorder, rewound the interview, and giggled helplessly as she replayed the entire interview.

Thusly occupied, she didn't hear the Elf enter the kitchen.

She did notice when he reached over her shoulder and pressed the "Off" button on the tape recorder. Looking back up over her shoulder, she swallowed hard at the face Haldir was making at her.

He did not look pleased.

"Haldir…" she squeaked removing her earphones. "What's wrong? Having a bad morning"

"I just met Legolas in the upstairs hallway."

"Oh…well, that's nice. I…um…have to be going now" she said, attempting to rise from her chair. A large hand pushed her right back down.

"He mentioned a few very interesting things…"

"Really? Gee…wish I had the time to chitchat, but I really have to be going…" the Author repeated, once again attempting to rise from her chair. Once again, a large hand pushed her back down.

"Said you and he had quite an exciting night."

"Did he? My…look at the time! I really do have to fly, Haldir…"

"Exactly what did he mean by 'exciting night"

"Oh…um…we played Parcheesi."

"Parcheesi? Is that a human euphemism for playing 'stick the arrow in the quiver'"

"Talk about euphemisms…Haldir, exactly what business is it of yours, anyway? Who I choose to spend my time with, and what activity I choose to fill that time with, is no one's business but my own. Now if you'll excuse me, I've a wizard to track down."

Once more, his hand pushed her down into the chair, this time anchoring her in place.

"It is my business because that poncy Elf is bragging that he will soon be one up on me! He cannot outshoot me, he cannot outride me, he cannot outdrink me, and he will certainly never outfuc…"

"Haldir! Really…such language! Do you kiss your horse with that mouth"

"I should take you right now."

"Take me where? To the opera? To McDonald's? You elves are really getting on my last nerve" the author growled, wiggling out from under his grip. "What makes you so full of yourself? Did you ever stop to consider that perhaps - just perhaps - not every female in the known universe is ready to jump your bones every time you wiggle an eyebrow at them"

Haldir paused, a look of disbelief etched on his face. "That's ridiculous. I'm an elf"

"And your point would be…"

"I'm an _elf_."

"I heard you the first time. So…you're an elf…and…"

"I'm an ELF"

"Debate really isn't your strong suit, is it"

"I am an elf. E. L. F. What part of 'elf' did you not understand? Great Eru, woman…look at me! Who would not want me" he reiterated yet again, tossing back his long silvery hair.

"We've already established that you're an elf. You're also a conceited, arrogant, and egotistical jerk."

"I prefer self-assured."

"If it looks like a duck, and quacks like a duck…"

"I am not a duck. I am an ELF" he roared, glaring down at her with his hands on his slender hips.

"Congratulations. You've just won first prize for having the single most one-tracked mind in recorded history."

"Let us go. NOW" he ordered, dragging the Author up from her chair by one arm.

"I am not going anywhere with you Haldir. I am not sleeping with you again. I shouldn't have slept with you the first time! Let go of me"

"No."

"Haldir"

"NO! If I let go of you, you will only go and sleep with Legolas. That I cannot allow."

"You can't allow? ALLOW? I have news for you, Haldir, you do not have the right to allow or disallow me to do anything! If I want to sleep with Legolas, then that's exactly what I'm going to do"

"Let her go, Haldir…you heard the lady - she wishes to sleep with me."

Haldir and the Author turned to see Legolas lounging against the doorframe to the kitchen, a big self-satisfied grin splitting his face.

"That's NOT what I meant" she yelled, yanking her arm free from Haldir's grasp.

"That is what you said."

"You're taking it out of context…"

"You said, and I quote"I want to sleep with Legolas."

"I did not! I said "IF I wanted to sleep with Legolas…"

"Well, if you are going to get technical…"

"Legolas, she is NOT going to sleep with you again…she is going to sleep with me" Haldir roared, turning to face the Wood Elf.

"I think not, March Warden! She is going to sleep with me. Now."

"No, I'm NOT" the Author screamed.

"No, she's NOT" Haldir bellowed.

"If it will facilitate the three of you ceasing this unholy caterwauling, I'll sleep with her myself" Glorfindel thundered, pushing his way between the two glaring Elves, to the author's side. He eyed the Silvan and the Wood Elf, silently warning them to back off.

"Glorfindel, this does not concern you…shouldn't you be knitting doilies with Erestor or something" Haldir asked sarcastically, earning a snort of agreement from Legolas.

"Do not test my patience, pup! I fought a Balrog…a little snot nosed miscreant like you should be no trouble"

"I fought the balrog…I fought the balrog…we have been hearing about that balrog for a millennia! In case you have forgotten, Glorfindel - you LOST" Legolas yelled, frowning fiercely at the Slayer.

"I did not lose! I killed him"

"He killed you too! That, according the Rules of Engagement for Balrog-slaying, equates to a _draw_ - NOT A WIN" Haldir not so subtly, and quite loudly, reminded him.

"Oh? And what exactly have _you_ two killed? An Orc? A hobbit with a glass eye and a wooden leg could kill one of those without breaking a sweat"

"I was in the Fellowship" Legolas declared, highly affronted.

"YOU were a glorified Boy Scout! You weren't even the one to destroy the Ring…a HOBBIT did that" Glorfindel countered.

Egads…it was getting quite hostile in the kitchen. As the three Elves squared off, each hurling insult after insult at each other, the Author took advantage of their distraction to grab her tape recorder and slip away.

"Now, if I were a Maiar, where would I be" she asked herself as she walked out toward the street.


	21. Chapter 21 Mr Maia

Title: A Gentleman Caller 

**Author: TICS**

**Rating: R**

**Summery: Glorfindel pays someone an unexpected visit.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them…I just play with them for a while, and always make sure to put them back exactly where I found them.**

**Genre: Humor. AU…please do not expect anything even remotely resembling canon here. Feedback greatly appreciated…desired…wanted…needed…:D**

A/N: I have changed the rating of this fic to "R" since it seems to be developing a tad more bawdier than I had first envisioned it to be. 

**Chapter 21**

**Mr. Maia**

The Author, having left the bickering Elves behind in the kitchen, left the House in search of Mithrandir. Slowly strolling down the main street in town, she realized that Valinor reminded her a lot of every tourist trap seaside village on the East Coast.

On one side of the cobble stone street were small shops, each pastel colored clapboard façade lined with long window boxes filled with fragrant flowers - except for one. This one particular shop was rather run-down, its clapboard fading to a nondescript gray, its window box filled with tacky, plastic daisies. An overhead sign, faded and cracked read, " Gil's Smoke Shop."

Smirking, she knew exactly where she could find the Maia.

Opening the door, a small bell tinkled somewhere over her head as her nostrils were assaulted by the pungent odor of tobacco.

Squinting, standing by the door waiting for her eyes to adjust to the smoky, dim interior, her eyes picked out a long glass counter that ran the length of one side of the room, filled with boxes and pouches, pipes and papers, and a variety of glass jars which were filled with dark leaves, presumably tobacco. Scanning the store, she finally saw three figures gathered around a chessboard off to one side of the room. Each held a pipe between their teeth, puffing away, concentrating on the game. One seemed elderly, having long white hair and an equally long white beard, his battered, dusty, pointed hat plopped on his head, the point flopped over to one side. Another seemed younger, an Elf with glossy black hair, swarthy skin, and dark blue eyes, while the third was short, squat, and sported thick, frizzy red hair and a long, braided beard.

"Argh…what are ye thinking? Are ye daft, Gil-Galad? If ye move yer knight, it will put yer Queen in jeopardy!" the short figured grumbled to the dark haired figure. "Think before ye move, ye damned silly Elf!"

"Mind your tongue, Dwarf!" muttered the white-haired figure. "Always sticking that mountain in the middle of your face that you call a nose in everyone else's affairs…"

"Bah…yer just bothered because the Elf is beatin' ye, Gandalf…"

"Gimli, I've a good mind to cast a spell that will put that mouth of yours to rest for a milennia."

"Leave him be, Mithrandir. At least he only runs at the mouth when he has something to say, unlike a certain Maia in this room who can ramble on for hours about absolutely nothing!" Gil-Galad growled, placing his Bishop in position to block Mithrandir's anticipated move.

The Author cleared her throat politely, waiting for one of the three to acknowledge her presence.

"ARGH! Gandalf! Not yer rook, man! Not yer rook!" Gimli cried, pounding his fist into his knee in frustration.

"Are you playing this game, or am I, Dwarf? I know what I am doing!" Mithrandir exclaimed, knitting his considerably bushy brows at the Dwarf, sniffing imperiously as he moved his rook on the board.

"Checkmate," Gil-Galad said, leaning back and folding his arms across his chest, looking as smug as only an Elf could manage.

"Pardon me…" the author said, stepping into the store and walking closer to the trio hunched over the board.

"I tried to tell ye, Gandalf…" Gimli muttered, shaking his frizzy head. "But ye never listen to me."

Mithrandir studied the board, staring at the pieces as if their positions on the board might change if he glared at them long enough. Finally, he tipped over his King and sighed. "Good game. Play another?"

The author cleared her throat politely, but only the Elf acknowledged her presence. "Welcome. How may I help you, young woman?"

"Hi. I was looking for Mithrandir…" the author answered, eyeing the white bearded figure who was busily setting up the chess board for another game.

"By the Valar, Gandalf! How is it that your wrinkled, puckered old puss can manage to keep attracting such lovely young creatures as this? I can barely manage to convince anyone to take a tumble with me without giving her a pocketful of gems…" the Dwarf laughed, elbowing the Maia.

"…or a great deal of liquor," Mithrandir mumbled through his beard.

"Uncalled for, Gandalf…poor form, my boy," Gil-galad laughed, clapping his hand on the Dwarf's shoulder.

The author placed her tape recorder down in the center of the chess board, and turned it on.

Author: Mithrandir, I wonder if I might have a few moments of your time.

Mithrandir: Of course…if you'll allow me a moment to collect myself, I believe Gil-galad has a bed in the backroom we can use. It's probably a bit dusty, but 'twill serve for a quick tumble."

Author: Eww. I'm not here to sleep with you, Mithrandir.

Gimli: How about me, Lass? I am willing…

Author: Double Eww. No, I just wanted to talk to Mithrandir.

Mithrandir: Talk? Well, isn't that refreshing! Certainly, my young woman…what would you like to talk about?

Author: Me, getting home.

Mithrandir: Oh, _now_ I remember…you're the young human Glorfindel brought here…the Interment writer.

Author: Internet, sir…it's the Internet. Yes, I am. And I'd like to go back now, if you please.

Mithrandir: Why?

Author: Why? Because it's my home…I don't belong here…these Elves are all nuts. No offense, Your Majesty.

Gil-Galad: No offense taken. Have you seen Thranduil's Elvis? He's actually quite good…

Author: Yes, sir…he's very convincing. For a loon.

Gimli: What do you mean 'double eww?' What's wrong with a Dwarf?

Author: Nothing…I just don't sleep with anyone who can't climb on the bed without help. It's not you…it's just me.

Mithrandir: I suppose I could send you back…it may take a little while though…perhaps a few hundred years.

Author: A few HUNDRED years? You're as batty as the rest of them around here! I'll be dead before then!

Gil-Galad: Then it won't matter if he sends you back, now will it?

Author: I want to go home, now! Not tomorrow…not next week…DEFINITELY not in a few hundred years…NOW!

Mithrandir: These things take some time, dear. They must be done with finesse…with careful planning…deep consideration…a good…deal…of…zzzzzzzzz.

Author: Mithrandir?

Gimli: The bloody slacker's nodded off again. GANDALF!

Mithrandir: Cough. Huh?

Gimli: Fer the love of Eru, wake up! Ye damned old coot!

Author: Send me home, Mithrandir!

Mithrandir: Oh hello…who are you?

Author: ARGH!

the tape rolls on for as Gimli and Gil-galad snort, and the Author slaps at Mithrandir's hat

Gil-galad: He's been having a bit of a memory problem lately…he is over…well…Mithrandir…how old are you, anyway?

Mithrandir: Huh? Who are you?

Gil-galad: Oh my. You may as well go back to the House, young woman…when he gets like this it is often quite a while before he feels himself once more.

Gimli: Aye, Lass…we'll bring him to ye when he's back to his old self again.

Author: Damn it. Fine. But if I have to sleep with one more Elf because of this, I'm holding the three of you completely responsible!

The author clicks off the tape recorder, and prepares to storm out of the Smoke Shop. Gimli's voice reaches her just before the door swings shut.

"Lass! I found me stepladder! Lass? Lass!"


	22. Chapter 22For This Afternoon's Entertain

Title: A Gentleman Caller 

**Author: TICS**

**Rating: R**

**Summery: Glorfindel pays someone an unexpected visit.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them…I just play with them for a while, and always make sure to put them back exactly where I found them.**

**Genre: Humor. AU…please do not expect anything even remotely resembling canon here. Feedback greatly appreciated…desired…wanted…needed…:D**

A/N: I have changed the rating of this fic to "R" since it seems to be developing a tad more bawdier than I had first envisioned it to be. 

**Chapter 22**

**For This Afternoon's Entertainment…**

The Author stormed back into the House, still angrily muttering curses under her breath at a certain doddering old Maia. Entering the kitchen, she stopped dead in her tracks, the sight before her ripping a very loud, wet snort from her.

Glorfindel was trying to get Legolas in a sleeper hold, the younger Elf growling and bucking fiercely against the elder Elf's formidable strength. Erestor was whacking Glorfindel upside the head with a feather duster, screaming at him to "Let the Prince be…you're old enough to know better, Glorfindel…this is most unbecoming of an Elf your age!"

Haldir was attempting to cross the room to get to Legolas and Glorfindel, but Elrond had thrown himself on the floor and had both arms wrapped around the Galadhel's legs, screaming that "Kinslaying is illegal! Kinslaying is illegal!" even as Haldir slowly dragged him across the floor.

Thranduil stood between the two sets of struggling Elves, still dressed in his white leather jumpsuit, alternately snapping a scarf at each of the other Elves, while singing "It's Now Or Never" at the top of his lungs.

Elladan and Elrohir were just to the right of the doorway, eating grapes while they whistled, catcalled, and generally egged on the two sets of Elves on the floor. Every so often one of them would pitch a grape at the other Elves.

Galion stood near the back of the room, rolling his eyes and tossing back a very large glass of something that the Author was willing to bet was alcoholic.

Not that she blamed him.

Skirting the other Elves, she came to stand next to the King's butler, eyeing the glass in his hand. "Anymore of that left?" she asked.

Smirking, the butler poured a shot into a glass for her, then refilled his own. Clinking their glasses together, he said, "Cheers," as both of them downed the fiery liquid.

The Author set the tape recorder down on the counter and turned it on.

Author: Do they do this often?

Galion: Every chance they get. Sometimes over the most idiotic things…they once went at it over the last dinner roll…didn't matter in the slightest that the cook had an entire batch coming out fresh from the oven…

Author: I thought Elves were supposed to be basically peaceful creatures…

Galion: Right. Think immortal. Think same crap, different day - for eternity…

Author: So they fight because they're bored?

Galion: Oh…this isn't fighting. This is just roughhousing.

the tapes rolls on for a while as the Author watches Glorfindel continually bang Legolas' head against the floor, and Elrond sink his teeth into Haldir's leg

Author: Roughhousing. Uh huh. What about you, Galion…why aren't you participating in the, um…roughhousing?

Galion: Please. I'm above all this. Someone has to keep a level head or the entire place would fall to ruin.

Author: Aren't you afraid that they'll seriously hurt one another?

Galion: Nah. They'll tire themselves out eventually, then they'll all sleep like babies. Of course, then I get the immense enjoyment of having to clean up after them. So…who's it going to be?

Author: Who's what going to be?

Galion: Which one are you going to sleep with? Haldir or Legolas?

Author: For the love of Mike…NEITHER. I shouldn't have slept with either one to begin with!

Galion: Why?

Author: What?

Galion: Why? Why not?

Author: Because…because…I hardly know them. They each caught me in a weak moment.

Galion: Humans. I could never understand the way you people need justification for such matters. Well…unless you want them to beat each other every day for the rest of eternity, you'd better decide to sleep with one of them and end this. If Mithrandir sends you back with it unresolved, they'll be forever trying to decide which one you _would_ have chosen, and _I'll_ have to spend eternity mopping up after them. That would NOT make Galion a happy camper.

the tapes rolls on as the Author stares openmouthed at the butler. At this point Legolas has managed to flip Glorfindel over and is now in the process of trying to throttle him, while Erestor tries to snatch the Prince baldheaded. Elrond has managed to pull Haldir to the floor, but Haldir has Elrond's head caught between his knees and is trying to pop it like a zit. Elladan and Elrohir, having grown bored with watching the others, are now rolling about on the floor grappling with each other for no apparent reason. They rolled under Thranduil's feet, causing the King to fall over, landing with a thump on top of twins, flattening both of them to the floor

Author: You're all loony…each and every one of you!

Galion: You could always sleep with me…that would end it because it would no longer be a two-way tie, and the Rules of Engagement clearly state that if a third party enters the battle, then…

Author: NO! Don't even go there, Buttle-boy.

Galion: Come on…then you can say, "The butler did it." Or, to be more precise, "I did the butler…"

Author: ARGH!

Celeborn: What have I missed?

Galion: Legolas and Haldir are arguing over whom the Author will choose to sleep with, but she is actually going to sleep with me.

Author: No, I'm not!

Celeborn: Damn. Why is it that no one ever chooses to sleep with me?

Author: You're married!

Celeborn: Yes…but to the Elf-witch. You've met her…you know how freaky she can get.

Author: I'm not sleeping with you.

Celeborn: Come on…just a little?

Author: That's it. I'm going to bed.

Galion: _Now_ you're talking…

Author: Alone.

Celeborn: What fun is there in that?

Galion: It can be fun…not as much fun as sleeping with the butler, though…

Author: You're crazy AND disgusting.

Celeborn: I'll sleep with you, Galion…

Galion: No, thank you kindly, Your Lordship. My broom doesn't sweep that way.

Celeborn: I want to sleep with SOMEBODY, dammit!

The Author gapes at the two Elves then swiftly grabs up her tape recorder, not bothering to switch it off, and, jumping over the wrestling Elves on the floor, dashes out of the kitchen, leaving Galion fighting off Celeborn as the Silver Lord tries to pull down the butler's leggings. Her last glimpse of them was of Galion, his leggings puddled around his ankles, trying to strangle Celeborn with his legging's strings.


	23. Chapter 23 By the Valar

Title: A Gentleman Caller 

**Author: TICS**

**Rating: R**

**Summery: Glorfindel pays someone an unexpected visit.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them…I just play with them for a while, and always make sure to put them back exactly where I found them.**

**Genre: Humor. AU…please do not expect anything even remotely resembling canon here. Feedback greatly appreciated…desired…wanted…needed…:D**

**Chapter 23 - By the Valar**

Escaping the kitchen, leaving the battling Elves behind, the Author stood outside the door contemplating what she should do next. She couldn't go home, since Mithrandir seemed to be in the middle of an identity crisis of some sort, and she had no Elves to interview, since they were all rolling about in the kitchen exercising their testosterone glands…she was at a loss as to what to do next.

"Psst."

The Author's attention was drawn by the whisper. Looking around, she spotted a very handsome, yet completely unfamiliar Elf standing at the sitting room's door, beckoning to her. Looking rather windblown, his golden hair gleamed, and his brilliant blue eyes pierced her. He carried a scepter that held an egg-sized sapphire of the deepest, most heavenly blue the Author had ever seen, and he was waving that scepter at her frantically.

"Psst! Thou…there by the kitchen door…come hither!" he whispered, although to the Author his whisper sounded a bit like a gusty wind.

Curious, the Author walked over to the Elf.

"There reside here some whose heartfelt wish is to meet with thou that their visage and endeavors should not be forgotten or their ways forsook," he said, in a voice like the wind through the leaves.

"Huh?" The Author replied, in a voice that sounded like stupid through a sieve.

The Elf sighed, and tried again. "Within these halls dwell some whose memory would forever be engraved upon the hearts and in the minds of those Children of Ilúvatar."

"Huh?"

"They want to talk into your tape recorder thingee."

"Oh…why didn't you say so? Who are you?" The Author asked, finally getting it.

"I am Manwë, The Breath of Arda," he answered, his voice sounding as a summer breeze.

"Whew…well, Breath of Arda, _somebody_ needs a breath mint," the Author replied, waving her hand in front of her nose.

"Sorry…had garlic at lunch…"Manwë said, blushing a bit. He covered his own mouth and exhaled, sniffing at his hand. Keeping his mouth covered, he motioned for her to follow him into the sitting room.

Entering the sitting room, the Author counted no less than twelve other Valar standing and sitting, all of which looked at her when she entered.

"Ooh…perfect…thirteen. My lucky number," the Author said, smiling.

"Actually, there are fourteen of us," Manwë informed her.

"I only count thirteen," the Author insisted, doing another quick head count.

"Ulmo is here also," one of the fair Vala told her, pointing to a bucket sitting on the floor.

The Author walked over and peered into the bucket, expecting to see something…anything…a tiny Elf…a talking mushroom…_something_. All she saw was a bucket of water. "Okay…you folks have named the bucket _Ulmo_?"

The Valar laughed, their voices like a symphony. "No, no…" Manwë said, still chuckling. "Ulmo…show yourself."

The Author's eyes widened as a watery hand formed itself out of the liquid in the bucket and waggled its soggy fingers at her.

Manwë rolled his eyes, and whispered in the Author's ear, "He refuses to cloak himself…freaking naturalist is what _he_ is…" Clearing his throat, which sounded like the rumble of thunder, he continued, "Allow me to introduce you to everyone…may I present my lovely wife, Varda…"

A most beautiful Vala nodded graciously at her, her face glowing so brightly that the Author wished she had had the foresight to bring her Ray-bans.

Indicating the Vala who sat next to Varda, Manwë said, "Please greet Aulë."

The Author nodded at yet another handsome Vala, who grinned at her. "Is that thing broken?" he asked, gesturing toward her tape recorder. "I can fix it…I can fix anything…on second thought, why don't I just build you another one? Just let me get my tools…"

" Aulë …she does not _need_ another one. Sit down, and _try_ to be still," Manwë ordered, frowning at the Vala. Aulë frowned himself, grumbling, but sat back in his chair, fidgeting.

Next to Aulë sat another Vala, who Manwë introduced as Yavanna,

Aulë's mate. She looked at the Author's tape recorder curiously, and wiggled her fingers at it. Leaves began to sprout from the recorder, causing the Author to nearly drop it. "Hey…stop that!" The Author cried, ripping the new growth from the recorder.

Yavanna pouted, sticking her lower lip out. "It is barren…I give it life and you complain? So like the Secondborn…always complaining. Oh, it's all fine and dandy when their crops are failing…then it's, Yavanna…make the corn grow…Yavanna, my vegetables need tending…Yavanna, my roses aren't big enough to win first prize at the faire…"

"Oh…I suppose you're responsible for everything that grows, huh?" The Author asked sarcastically, cocking an eyebrow at the uppity Vala.

"I am," Yavanna answered haughtily.

"Hmm…Sunflowers…those were _your_ idea? Could you _make_ them big enough? Overcompensating for something perhaps?"

Yavanna's mouth dropped open at the human's audacity, but she blushed, her eyes flicking toward her own chest, which was washboard flat.

Manwë wisely decided that it was time to move on, and introduced the Author next to a formidable looking Vala who was scowling as he stood near the window. The Author gave a small yelp at his grimacing face.

"Tulkos…for Eru's sake, Tulkos, smile will you? You are going to make her wet herself," Manwë ordered, frowning at him.

The giant of an Vala lifted his lips in a smile that was more of a sneer. "Give me a moment alone with her, and we will see what I will make her do." He laughed then, a sound that sent a shiver up the Author's spine.

"Are you related to Haldir, by any chance?" The Author asked, warily keeping her distance from the angry-looking Vala who continued to leer at her.

Manwë took her elbow and turned her to face another Vala. "May I introduce Nienna…" The Vala raised sorrowful eyes toward the Author and proceeded to burst into tears, wailing to beat the band.

The Author took a step back from the weeping Vala. "What's wrong with her?" she whispered to Manwë, as the Vala's tears slid down the front of her gown, and began to form a little puddle on the floor.

"It's what she _does_…" Manwë explained, shrugging his shoulders. "She weeps."

"She just cries? That's it? Have you people ever considered Prozac?" the Author asked, stepping back another foot in order to avoid getting her feet wet.

"She has us for brothers…that is reason enough to cry…" another Vala laughed, elbowing the Vala beside him, who snickered. Nienna shot them a look before renewing her sobs. The first Vala turned to the Author and said, "I am Mandos…welcome…you really must come visit my Halls some time."

The Author smiled at the handsome Vala, liking his dark good looks. "What is it that you do, Mandos…I assume your sister has the weeping thing all sewn up…"

"Námo, otherwise known as Mandos, is the Keeper of the Dead," Manwë informed her, smirking as the Author's face blanched.

"Keeper of the Dead? Eww…don't they start to reek after a while?" the author asked, a look of disgust crossing her face.

"Not their bodies, silly mortal…just their souls," Mandos tried to explain.

"So you're like…the Grim Reaper, huh? Bet you have a scythe and everything…I think I'll pass on that visit to your halls…no offense, but I'm really not into the whole dead thing."

"I am not grim, Yavanna is the one who tends to the plants, and I only seethe when foolish young mortals annoy me."

"Right. Well then…" the Author said, turning to Mandos' brother, "…and you are…?" She raised a brow as she realized the Vala she was addressing was snoring lightly.

"Irmo…Irmo…for the love of Arda, Irmo, wake up!" Manwë shouted, his voice like a gale force wind.

"Hmm…huh? Oh…sorry, I must have dozed off…" Irmo replied, after giving a jaw-cracking yawn. He looked at the author and grinned lecherously. "I was having a lovely dream about a young woman who had a most extraordinarily talented tongue…"

The Author opened her mouth to tell the Vala that in his dreams was the _only_ place he was likely to find her tongue, but Manwë interrupted her.

"Irmo is Lord of Dreams…in which he indulges himself a bit too often," Manwë explained, shaking his golden head at the Vala. He urged the Author forward to meet yet another Vala.

Manwë sighed, realizing that this one too, was fast asleep. "Estë… Estë…wake up, dear…we have company," he whispered, evidently not willing to shout at the Vala as he had Irmo. She fluttered her eyelids, but remained asleep.

"This is Estë, wife of Irmo…they make a good pair - you can obviously see why," Manwë said dryly.

A quick movement, no more than a blur, caught her attention, and she found herself facing yet another Vala. This one grinned at her impishly.

"Nessa…" Manwë began, but the Vala disappeared in a flash, only to reappear on the Vala's _other_ side, her grin widening. "Stop that, Nessa…it is annoying!" Manwë admonished the quick-moving Vala. She giggled at him, then fled to the other side of the room, in a motion too quick for the eye to follow.

"A bit hyperactive, isn't she?" the Author asked, as Nessa continued to streak about the room.

"This is her brother, Oromë…" Manwë began, but was cut off by the striking Vala.

"Hah! Did you see that?" the Vala asked looking out of the window. "That was a warg…I am sure of it!"

Sighing, Manwë said, "There are no wargs in Valinor, Oromë - we've been over this a million times…no wargs…no nazgul…no cave trolls."

"But I am certain that I saw…"

"None. Zip. Zero, Oromë! There are no monsters in Valinor!" Manwë said firmly.

"Don't pick on him, Manwë," said a petite (for an Vala) female who looked much younger than the rest. No more than sixteen, by the Author's estimation, although she knew that they were actually the Valar, and were older than dirt. Literally. "Like, let him be, you know? If he wants to see wargs, then let him see wargs, Manwë!" the Vala pouted, stroking Oromë on the arm. "Poor puddums…big old bad Manwë is always picking on you…" she purred. She whispered something into the Vala's ear that made him grin, then licked the tip of his ear, making him shudder.

Again Manwë sighed, pulling the Author along. "That's Vána - the Ever-young, Yavanna's sister, and Oromë's mate."

"Ever-_Ready_ is more like it…" the Author muttered, raising a brow at the pair who had already sunk to the floor and were energetically sucking face.

"Great Eru's Codpiece! Where ever did you get that hideous frock you are wearing?" asked another voice, distracting the Author from the x-rated floorshow. She turned to face yet another Vala, who proceeded to flip a measuring tape all about various parts of the Author's anatomy.

"It…it was lent to me by the Elves here when I arrived…" the Author replied, at a loss as the Vala measured her bust line.

"Hmm…thirty six…busty little thing, aren't you? No wonder Yavanna is throwing you dagger eyes…" the Vala continued, blithely measuring away. "Don't you worry, sweetie…I'll soon have a frock for you that will turn every Vala's head…you just wait and see."

"NO!" yelled the Author, thinking that she was having enough trouble with Haldir and Legolas as it was, without having to wear some Elven flirt skirt.

Manwë chuckled, staying the Vala's hand from doing any more measuring. "This is Vairë, our weaver, and wife to Mandos."

The Author nodded politely, watching the Vala pull her measuring tape through her fingers impatiently.

"Really, Manwë, don't begrudge the human a decent gown…let me finish measuring her…" she beseeched the Vala Lord.

Smiling benevolently, Manwë nodded, and the Vala continued her measuring attack on the Author. A few moments later, she skipped happily away to a corner of the room, where scissors soon clicked and bits of fabric began flying through the air.

Looking at the Author, Manwë shrugged. "She used to be responsible for weaving the tapestries of time and events in Arda…poor dear needs something to do once in while, now that we're all retired…and I really do NOT need another peek-a-boo tunic."

"It's…um…a pleasure to meet all of you," the Author said, as the crowd of Valar looked at her expectantly after all the introductions had been made. Except for Vairë, who was still busy in the corner, now trying to thread a needle, and getting increasingly frustrated when she couldn't pierce the hole with the thread.

"Vairë! Come here and I'll help you get your thread in your hole," Mandos called to his wife. He elbowed Tulkos, whispering in a voice that still carried across the room, "I'll get _something_ in her hole, at any rate…" Tulkos snorted, his lecherous grin widening.

"I thought the Valar were invisible to human eyes…Elf eyes, too, for that matter," the Author mused, looking over the crowd assembled in the sitting room.

"We usually are, like Ulmo there… Manwë replied, gesturing toward the bucket, where once again, watery fingers drew up to wiggle at her. "But since we all wanted to take part in your interviews, we thought it best if you could see us…wouldn't want you thinking you were hearing voices…"

Varda's laugh tinkled like a bell as she agreed with her husband. "Oh, yes…we've tried that many times over the ages with your people, and it became quite frustrating. Either they were burned at the stake for being heretics, or locked up for being loonies…either way, no one listened to what we told them to say."

"Ah…understandable…" the Author said, nodding her head. "So…shall we begin?" she asked, placing the tape recorder on a small table and pressing the "On" button. The crowd of Valar and Valier leaned forward expectantly.

TBC…


End file.
